The Rites of Man
by Steph36
Summary: Soda is taken prisoner in Vietnam. Now he must struggle to survive, and escape does not always mean freedom.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders or any of the song lyrics used throughout the story.

Okay, I know I have a lot of author's notes here, but please at least read this first one. This story is intense and dark and deals with a lot of sensitive situations. Please keep this in mind when reading and consider yourself warned. Please also remember that I didn't include anything in the story just for kicks. Everything has a purpose and I thought hard about everything that happens. I did my best to treat all the material with the upmost respect and did a lot of research on the effects of these situations. And believe me, I was not unaffected by the material. If you have a problem with anything, please message me instead of reporting the story.

Secondly, I know there are a couple of historical inaccuracies in the story, but for the most part, you'd really have to know what you're talking about to notice them. I'll point out the obvious one when it happens. There really wasn't a way around it. There's also a couple parts that are not based in historical fact, but are entirely plausible.

Each chapter begins with song lyrics. The lyrics fit the chapter (hopefully), so please take the time to read them. I worked really hard picking them out! The title of the story itself comes from a song, too (by Spirit of the West), which I highly recommend listening to on youtube. The chorus fits perfectly with the story and it's such a beautiful song.

I think that's about it. I've been working really, really hard on this story, so I'd love reviews! I'll try to update as fast as possible but I can't always promise it. I'm crazy busy right now. I do have a lot of this story prewritten (50+ pages), but it's not in sequential order, so that won't always speed up the updates.

Finally, I want to give a huge "thank you" to SodapopSteve, who is beta reading this story! Thank you so much! Also, to ConfuzzledAtLife, who read the first chapter and gave me a lot of encouragement with it.

Alright, here we go…

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You will begin to cry  
Hearing the silence breaking  
You breathe, alive  
But you are alone again

From the heart of darkness  
You call to me  
Spirit raging on  
There is nothing I can do  
For you are next to no one

--Disturbed ~ Breathe

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I ran as fast as I could, branches whipping my face as I raced past them. Another bullet whizzed by my head, missing me by inches, and I pushed my legs to move faster. I zigzagged around trees, hoping to throw off whoever was shooting at me. My unit had been broken up and scattered when we were ambushed. I'd been trying to make my way back to them when a sniper had spied me and started shooting. Now I was running for my life, trying to keep some sense of direction through the jungle while avoiding the bullets that kept flying at me. The sniper had to be on the ground; it was the only explanation for how I hadn't outrun him by now. I saw a river up ahead and my heart sank, thinking that I was now limited to two directions; then I saw a footbridge crossing it. I pushed myself still faster, aiming for the bridge. If I could get across it and behind a tree, the sniper wouldn't be able to keep firing without coming out of his cover.

My feet pounded across the bridge and I felt wood splinters fly around me as a bullet hit the railing just beside me. As soon as I was across, I ducked behind the first tree that was big enough to shield me. I leaned against it, breathing hard, and tried to calm my racing heart. The shooting had stopped, but I wasn't sure the sniper wouldn't try to sneak to a better, angled vantage point. I looked around, quickly planning a rough route through the trees that would hopefully lead me safely out of the sniper's range. Taking a deep breath, I left my hiding place and plunged through the thick foliage, narrowly avoiding the last couple of bullets aimed at me.

When I was far enough away from the river that I felt relatively safe, I stopped for a minute and leaned over, trying to catch my breath. I didn't rest long in case there was anyone else around. I quickly started in the direction I thought the rest of my unit would be, keeping my fingers crossed that there was even a unit for me to get back to after the ambush. When I'd run a couple minutes away from the bridge, I headed back towards the river, hoping there'd be another way to cross it so I could get back to the correct side.

I was just within sight of the river when I heard shouting to my right. I quickly ducked behind the nearest tree and got my gun ready. The voices weren't speaking English. They were definitely close, probably only a couple dozen feet away; I could tell there were a few of them and knew I wouldn't stand a chance of fighting them or outrunning them. I shrank against the tree, praying they'd veer off in a different direction or pass by without noticing me. My heart was hammering in my ears and sweat trickled down my face and back. The voices were now mere feet away and I could feel in the pit of my stomach that they were going to see me.

I kept praying right up till the second the first enemy soldier noticed me. He immediately raised his gun and yelled at his friends. They quickly joined him and formed a circle around me, guns all pointed towards me. I swallowed hard, dropped my gun on the ground, and raised my hands in surrender. I figured I had a better chance as a prisoner than I did dead.

Three of them kept their guns trained on me and the other two roughly grabbed my arms and started leading me in the direction they'd been headed. My mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan to escape, but I couldn't think of anything. I tried not to think about what might happen if I didn't get away. After a few minutes I saw more shapes ahead. For a split second my heart jumped, thinking that maybe they were American, but my hopes were dashed when I heard their voices. We were meeting up with more Vietnamese soldiers.

The two who had hold of my arms brought me over to the guy I assumed was the leader. They started talking, but I didn't understand a word of it. He called out to someone named Luong, and a young guy came over to join us. He was probably a couple years older than me and he looked real nervous. He glanced at me briefly then turned to his superior, who started talking quickly to him. Luong turned back to me. "My Lieutenant want to know if you are alone."

I stared at him, surprised. "You speak English?" I asked, not even thinking about his question.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I not speak very good," he added, looking almost apologetic. "Please answer. Are you alone?"

I thought about lying and pretending I had friends waiting for me, but I wasn't sure if that would make me more valuable or more dangerous to them. If they thought there was more of me somewhere, they might try and bargain me for something, but they might just shoot me on the spot. I nodded, deciding to just stick with the truth for now. "I think so," I told him. "I got separated. I'm not sure where my friends are."

He relayed this message back to his superior, who gave him more instructions. "Is your friends on this side of river, also?" he asked haltingly.

"I don't think so," I answered. "I crossed over the river cause of a sniper." He looked confused by my answer and I wasn't sure he understood it all. "Someone was shooting at me. I ran and crossed the river," I tried again and this time he nodded and relayed the message. Suddenly, a fist slammed into my face, hitting me square in the jaw.

"He not believe you," Luong said.

"Yeah, I got that," I muttered, spitting out blood.

There was more talking, then Luong said, "He think you have friends near. He want to know where."

He looked worried, which didn't make me feel any better. I shook my head. "I don't know where they are. I don't think they're close." I was getting the impression that Luong was a decent guy and decided to try my luck with him. "Look, I'm just trying to get back to them. Can you get your friends to let me go?"

The Lieutenant shouted something at Luong, who winced a little and answered him. This time the Lieutenant punched my stomach. Winded, I doubled over as much as I could with the two soldiers still holding my arms. Luong spoke to his superior again, who yelled back at him. "I am sorry," he said. "He will not let you go."

I brought myself back to a proper standing position and nodded at Luong. "Thanks for trying," I said. It was obvious this guy didn't have any authority and I knew there was no point in asking him to do more. No one was going to listen to him. The Lieutenant gave some orders and I was thrown onto the ground. Before I had a chance to react, a series of kicks landed in my midsection. I heard a crack and knew that at least one rib was probably broken. I groaned and curled up, wanting to protect the rest of my ribs.

"He still want to know where your friends are," Luong told me. I looked up at him and saw that he looked genuinely sorry at the turn of events.

"I told you the truth," I said. "What does he want to hear?"

"I am sorry. I do not know what answer he look for." I was pretty sure he was telling the truth and I considered my options again. If I changed my story and claimed I had friends nearby, my captors would probably make me try to find them. When no one turned up, they might shoot me. If I stuck to the truth, they might take me with them and maybe I'd have a chance to escape. I didn't think that was very likely, but it seemed better than my first option.

"I don't know where my friends are," I told Luong again. He repeated my answer to his boss and more kicks landed in my ribs. I heard another crack and groaned again, clutching a hand to my middle. Before I could recover, I was dragged to my feet. I stood half bent over from pain, arms held again by a soldier on each side of me. There were more orders and I was pushed forward, forced to walk with the rest of the group as they moved out.

My stomach was twisted in knots from fear. The only thing I could hope was that we'd run into American soldiers somewhere and I'd make it out of this group. We moved quietly through the jungle till we came to a medium sized building. There were guards standing around the perimeter and my heart sank. This wasn't looking good.

I was dragged over to a pair of guards, and after a quick discussion, they brought me around the side of the building. There were more guards in front of a wooden door and I realized I was being led straight to them. Even though I knew it was pointless, I started struggling. I knew that if I went inside the building I'd probably never come out again. I dug my heels into the ground and fought against the arms holding me, trying to break free of their grasp. My ribs burned, but I ignored them. I looked wildly around and my eyes landed on Luong. "Please," I begged him, "get them to let me go. I don't know anything. I'm no threat to them!" I could hear the desperation in my voice and I hated sounding so cowardly but I knew this was my last chance. Luong didn't say anything, just shook his head sadly. "Please!" I tried again. We were almost at the now open door.

I yanked violently against the arms holding me, trying to break free, but with no success. I kicked the leg of the guy on my right. He let out a cry and his grip on me loosened for a second. I twisted out of his weakened grasp and was trying to free my other arm when I suddenly found myself staring down the barrel of a gun. One of the guards from the front door had decided to put an end to my futile attempt to escape. I froze, my heart hammering so hard against my chest I thought it would burst. The guard I'd kicked roughly grabbed hold of my arm again and with the gun trained on me I was marched into the building; the sound of the door slamming closed behind me echoed harshly in my ears. Already feeling like a trapped animal, I looked around for any possibility of escape, but found that we were in a windowless corridor that was just wide enough for three people to walk side by side. A few dim lights hung from the ceiling, allowing me to see the dirt covered grey walls. My stomach clenched as I noticed that some of the dirt stains looked darker than the rest, like dried blood.

I was quickly dragged down the corridor. We passed a few closed doors, none showing any route for escape. As we passed another closed door a scream suddenly came from right behind it. My blood turned to ice and my mind started racing with all the possibilities for what had caused the scream. Images of medieval torture devices flashed through my head and I found myself starting to breathe faster. This couldn't be happening. This kind of thing only happened in the movies, not in real life. At the thought of movies, my mind suddenly flashed to Ponyboy, then to Darry. Would I ever see them again? Or Steve and Two-Bit? If I died in here, would they ever know what had happened to me or would they be left wondering forever if maybe I was alive somewhere?

We came to a closed door at the end of the hallway and one of the guards took out a key ring and unlocked it. We passed through into a shorter corridor filled with more doors, closer together this time. There were two sets of guards in this hallway, stationed in pairs at each end. We stopped at a door at the end of the hallway, right next to the guards. One of them was looking at me real funny, but I didn't pay much attention to him. My mind was too busy coming up with scenarios of what was going to happen to me. Ponyboy wasn't the only one in the family with a wild imagination.

When the guards had unlocked this door too, I was dragged into the tiny room and thrown onto the dirt floor. The guard who I'd attacked earlier immediately retaliated and forcefully kicked me in the side. I sucked in my breath as the pain shot through my abdomen and I curled up on my side as he landed a few more kicks. I seriously considered fighting back, but there were two of them, plus more outside. I'd never have lain on the ground and taken a beating back home, but the fear coursing through my body brutally reminded me that this wasn't home. After a half dozen kicks, he squatted down next to me. He studied me for a moment and I glared back at him, not giving him the satisfaction of turning my gaze away. He said a few words I didn't understand, then pushed me onto my stomach and dug his knee into my back. I gritted my teeth and tried to brace myself for whatever he was about to do. He grabbed my left arm and gave it a powerful yank backwards. As I felt my shoulder dislocate, I managed to hold in my scream, but I couldn't stop the strange, half choked moan that escaped my throat. The pressure came off my back and I was flipped over again. I bit down as the movement caused pain to shoot through my shoulder and down my arm. The guard was leering over me and I tried to figure out what he was going to do next so I could prepare for it. Instead, after a minute he stood up and walked towards the door and I breathed a small sigh of relief at the temporary respite.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

That respite didn't last long. After what I guessed were a couple of hours there were footsteps and loud talking outside my cell door. I'd taken a look around the small room, but there wasn't much to see. Against one wall there was a mat, which I guess was supposed to be my bed, and there was a bucket in the opposite corner. Aside from a tiny window near the ceiling, there wasn't anything else to investigate, so I'd lain down on the mat to wait for whatever would come next. Now it seemed the wait was over.

The talking died down and I heard footsteps move away from my door. For a second I thought that maybe nothing would happen, but then a single guard came in, shutting the door behind him. I realized he was the guard who'd watched me when I'd been forced in here earlier. He was tall and well built—definitely not someone to mess with. He studied me for a few minutes and I felt my heart start beating faster in anticipation of an attack.

He started to move towards me and I braced myself, figuring that he would start beating on me like the other guard had, but instead he just knelt down and looked at me closely. His intense stare was starting to make me uncomfortable. What was he waiting for? Then he brought his hand to my cheek and stroked it; I recoiled, startled by this bizarre behavior. I started to back up out of his reach, but he quickly grabbed my arms and pinned me down. I struggled against his hold, but my left arm was throbbing and my ribs didn't feel much better.

He straddled me and started to pull my shirt off. I cried out as fire shot through my arm, but he ignored me and quickly finished and tossed the shirt aside. Before I knew what was happening, his lips were on mine and his tongue was forcing it's way into my mouth. I gagged and tried to move my head away, but he held it tightly in place. The taste of smoke and meat flooded my mouth and I had to force back the bile that rose in my throat. I didn't want to know what he would do if I threw up on him. After an eternity, he broke the kiss and started to pull my pants and boxers down. I struggled harder, thrashing under his hold, but he was too strong for me after the earlier attacks. I could feel the panic rising in my chest as I realized where this was inevitably leading and that I had no way to escape.

When he'd gotten the rest of my clothes off, he let his eyes roam over my naked body. I desperately wanted to get away and cover myself up, but I knew I didn't stand a chance. He pinned me down with his legs while he took off his own shirt, then quickly followed that with his pants. I tried to back away again, but he kept his weight on top of me; he'd obviously done this before. When his clothes were gone, he leaned over and roughly kissed me again, then let his mouth and hands wander over my body. My ribs and arm burned, but out of sheer desperation I struggled anyway. Then I felt his hand on the last place I wanted it and I squeezed my eyes closed against the tears.

He forced me onto my stomach and I cried out as I felt him rip into me. The feel of him moving inside of me was nauseating and again I bit back the urge to vomit. I finally lost all control and started bawling, wishing I was anywhere else. He only seemed to get off on my cries and pushed harder and faster till I mercifully passed out from the pain.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A sharp kick in the ribs woke me up the next morning. I groaned and opened my eyes to find a harsh face in uniform standing over me. I was confused until I looked around me and took in the cold, gray walls of my cell. Everything came rushing back to me, including the incident with the guard. I realized I was still naked and quickly tried to curl myself into a ball, but was stopped by a kick to my back—there was more than one guard in the room. The first guard stooped down and leaned over me. I tried to back up, afraid of what he might do, but I ended up backing into a boot. "I see you met Chu last night," he sneered. I was too scared to even realize he was speaking English. He stood up again and glared down at me. "Get dressed." He spoke a few words I didn't understand to the two other guards in the room, then turned and left.

I felt another kick to my back and realized I was supposed to be getting my clothes back on. I was more than happy to obey that order, but doing it wasn't as easy as wanting to do it. My ribs and my left arm ached and my entire lower half felt like it was on fire. Every time I moved my legs a searing pain shot up my spine. I moved slowly and this apparently made the guards angry cause they gave me a few more good kicks. When I'd managed to get my pants and shirt back on one of them yanked me up by my bad arm and I cried out in pain. Neither one paid any attention. They dragged me out of the cell and down the corridor till we reached a closed door.

They opened the door and dragged me into the room. Once the door was closed behind us, they pushed me away from them hard enough that I lost my balance, causing me to stumble and fall to the ground; I caught myself enough that I ended up half sitting, but not enough that I didn't jar my arm in the fall. I gritted my teeth against the pain and tried to take in steady breaths while I waited for it to subside. One of the guards yanked on the back of my shirt, pulling me up so I was kneeling.

"Hello, Mr. Curtis." I looked up sharply and saw there was another man in the room. He was in uniform and I realized he was probably someone in charge.

Through the fear that was threatening to overwhelm me I found some courage to speak up. "How do you know my name?"

He glanced meaningfully at my chest and for a split second I thought he was going to attack me like the guard—Chu—had last night. Relief washed over me when I realized he was looking at my dog tags; my name was printed on them. "Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, Mr. Curtis." His voice was calm, serene.

"Do what?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I want to know why you were on this side of the river."

That's all they wanted to know? Well, that was easy to answer. "I got separated from my unit. I was lost and was just trying to find my way back."

"But how did you come to be on the west side of the river if you began on the east side? Surely you didn't think your camp had magically crossed to the other side."

How the hell did he know which side of the river I'd started out on? Oh well. It didn't matter anyway. I had nothing to hide, so I figured honesty was the best policy in this case. "There was a sniper. I was running and ended up crossing a footbridge."

"That is a lie. We have soldiers stationed at that bridge and they saw no one cross."

"Well, maybe they were sleepin' or something," I shot back, a little annoyed. How should I know why their guards didn't see me?

"Very well. I can see we will have to do this the hard way."

What? He didn't believe me? Just what kind of answer was he looking for, anyway?

"I will ask you again," he said calmly. "What were you doing on the west side of the river?"

I didn't know what to do. He obviously didn't like the answer I'd given him, but it was the truth. What more was I supposed to say? When I didn't answer, he nodded to the guards still in the room and a fist connected with my cheek. Before I had a chance to react, a punch landed in my solar plexus. I leaned forward on my right hand, trying to catch my breath, but the guards pulled me back upright. I looked up at the officer asking the questions; he was staring back at me impassively, not at all affected by the pain I was obviously in. "Look," I panted, still trying to get my breathing back to normal, "I'm telling you the truth. I was running from a sniper, nothing else. I don't know what you think I was doing, but I wasn't doing nothing wrong. I was just trying to save my skin."

I saw him nod again and the next second pain shot through my back as a heavy boot smashed into it. I bent forward and this time they didn't bother pulling me back up. Instead, one of them viciously kicked my left shoulder and I screamed before I could even think to stop myself. A foot pushed down on my back, forcing me onto the ground, and then the second guard brought his foot down on my injured shoulder, hammering it over and over. I screamed again and tried to curl myself away from him, but the other guard was still pushing down on my back, holding me in place.

When the attack stopped, I was roughly pulled back to my knees. I knelt, breathing hard, trying to ignore the agony in my shoulder. "Now, why were you on this side of the river, Mr. Curtis?" the officer asked again. I gaped at him. What was so fucking important about this side of the river, anyway? What the hell did they think I'd been after? I numbly shook my head, too dazed to figure out a response. He nodded to the guards and the attack started again. They didn't hold me down this time and I curled into a ball, trying to protect myself as much as I could. I felt another rib crack and I stifled a moan.

I wished desperately that I was back in Tulsa, at home with my brothers. I wanted to fall asleep with my arms around Pony and wake up to the smell of Darry cooking bacon and eggs. Hell, I even wished I was back in Tulsa getting beat up by Socs. Then I could fight back, or at least drag myself home afterwards. I knew fighting back here wasn't going to help anything.

I was barely conscious when I felt myself being pulled to my feet. I half walked, half stumbled down the corridor as I was led back to my cell and thrown in. My legs immediately gave way and I fell with a thud to the hard ground. The door slammed closed, leaving me lying in a huddled ball, listening to the deafening silence surrounding me.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Okay…do you all hate me now? Remember, I did not write this lightly! Please, please review and let me know what you thought.

Darry, Pony, and Two-Bit will appear next chapter. Steve won't show up for a few chapters (sorry!), but will be in the story a lot once he does.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! I really appreciate the support and I love hearing what people think.

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What you do  
No one can decide it's up to you  
And who you are is what you choose  
These times when the world falls apart  
Make us who we are

~Lifehouse—The End Has Only Begun

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I woke up in a cold sweat. I didn't remember the dream, but I knew it had been another nightmare. I rolled over, realized once again that the space next to me was empty, and sighed. Soda had been gone for two months now.

The day he'd gotten his draft letter had been one of the worst days of all our lives. He, Darry and I had come home from a rare treat of eating dinner out and had found the day's mail waiting for us at the front door. It was usually just bills and junk mail, but that day had been different. Darry had found the official looking envelope in the middle of the pile and Soda had opened it in silence. We all knew what it probably was, but that didn't stop my stomach from dropping down to my feet when he looked up from the letter and nodded, confirming our suspicions. Steve had come over later that night with his own letter. We'd spent the night in solemn silence; not even Two-Bit's attempts at antics could cheer us up.

Now I lay in my empty bed, trying to get back to sleep. It was never easy, not with Soda gone. Every time I almost made it back to sleep, I would jump awake again, startled by some half imagined, half dreamt image of disaster on the other side of the world.

It was two days later that my nightmares turned to reality. It was Friday afternoon and I was doing my homework on the couch in the living room, trying to ignore Two-Bit mocking the game show he was watching. I could've moved to my room, but it was too quiet in there. Better to have aggravation than dead silence.

Darry, home early for a change, was in the kitchen fixing dinner. I would've helped him, but he insisted I get my school work done instead. Just before Soda had been drafted, a friend at school had told me about a job opportunity. There was a horseracing track across town where he worked as a busboy and when someone quit, he'd phoned me and given me a heads up. I'd wanted to start helping with the bills, but I'd been afraid to ask Darry about it. It was only when something specific came up that I'd worked up the courage to broach the subject. I'd been shocked when he'd agreed with almost no argument. The only condition had been that I didn't use the money to help with the bills; I had to put half of it in a college fund and the other half was for my own needs, which let him off the hook for my smokes, movies, and books. I worked every Saturday night, so I usually tried to get most of my homework out of the way on Friday.

As I puzzled over a math problem, I glanced up from my books in time to see the mail carrier walking away from our house. Ever since Soda had left boot camp and landed in 'Nam, I'd dreaded the mail delivery. That was how the government told you your world had fallen apart.

Darry had noticed the mail carrier, too, and went to investigate. I felt all the color drain out of my face when he came back in holding one single official envelope. Even from where I was sitting I could see "The United States Army" stamped as the return address. Two-Bit had been watching, and when he saw what Darry was holding, he silently crossed the room and turned off the TV.

My heart pounded in my chest. This couldn't be happening. That envelope almost definitely contained a letter telling us Soda was gone. Even if it wasn't going to knock us down another family member, it was only going to be an order for Darry to go to Vietnam, too.

Darry slowly walked over to the other end of the couch and sat down, opening the envelope as he did. He was stony faced as he read it and when he was done, he silently passed it to me. His face didn't give any indication of what the news was, so I reluctantly turned to read the letter for myself.

I barely managed to take in any of the words on the page. Only certain phrases jumped out at me and stuck in my muddled brain: _We regret to inform you…Sodapop…Missing in Action…presumed dead…_

I stared blankly at the page until I numbly felt Two-Bit take it out of my hands. Soda couldn't be dead. He couldn't be.

We sat in silence until smoke started coming from the kitchen. Swearing under his breath, Darry quickly ran to take whatever he'd been cooking off the stove. As I heard the remnants of dinner being scraped into the garbage, a thought occurred to me, one tiny glimmer of hope. As soon as Darry had sat back down a minute later, I spoke up. "It didn't say Soda was dead."

Two-Bit and Darry both looked at me, confused. "The letter didn't say Soda was dead," I repeated, annoyed that they didn't get it. "It said Soda was MIA. They're just assuming he's dead. He might not be."

"Aww, Pone," Two-Bit sighed, coming over to sit on the floor beside me. He patted my knee and looked at me sadly. "Pone, they wouldn't've sent that letter if they thought he was alive." I glared at him. He was always flipping off reality. Why did he have to be so pessimistic now?

I turned to Darry, looking for support from the one person who should be as desperate as I was to have Soda be alive. "Pone, Two-Bit's right," he said, gazing back at me sadly. "I'd love to believe that Soda's okay, but realistically, there's not much chance."

"How can you say that, Darry?!" I shouted, jumping up from the couch. I expected him to yell back at me, but he just sat there, silent, which made me even madder. It was like he'd given up. I looked back and forth between him and Two-Bit and saw I wasn't going to get any support from either of them. "Screw both of you," I seethed, turning away from them and stomping down the hall to my room. "Soda's alive, I know he is!" I yelled before slamming my door and locking it behind me.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Icy darkness surrounded me, cutting off all sound, all air. I struggled against the weight holding my head in the water, but it was useless. I hadn't eaten in over two days and I couldn't fight against the strong arms of the guard. Just when I thought I was going to suffocate, I was yanked backwards and thrown onto the floor. I lay sputtering and choking on the ground, trying to ignore the pain in my ribs as I gasped to catch my breath. My hands had been tied behind my back earlier after I'd used them to knock over the pail of water, so I was helpless to stop the swift kick that came to my midsection.

"Tell me what I want to know, Mr. Curtis, and this will all be over," Mr. Vo said in his incessantly calm voice. He'd finally told me his name. Whether it was his real name or not didn't really matter to me.

I groaned, starting to breathe regularly again. "I already told you a hundred times," I mumbled, too tired to speak any louder. "I was just trying to run from a sniper. Your guards watching the bridge lied or fell asleep or somethin'." This earned me another kick to the ribs, harder than the one before it. I doubled up and groaned again, realizing too late that I should've kept my mouth shut. They never liked it when I accused their guards of anything.

"You're making this very difficult for yourself, Mr. Curtis." I wasn't the one making anything difficult. He was. There was an order in Vietnamese, then I was picked up by the back of my shirt and shoved into the water again. I barely had enough time to take in a quick breath before my air supply was cut off. I struggled—how could I not?—but of course it was no use. I was pulled out by my shirt and I quickly gasped for another breath before being thrust back in. This happened again and again until my lungs were screaming for air and I was sure I was gonna die.

Finally, I was pulled out and thrown on the floor again. I coughed up water that I'd somehow swallowed and tried to get a deep breath, half dizzy with lack of oxygen. "Are you going to cooperate?" Mr. Vo asked.

Anger flared through me and I couldn't help myself. "I am fucking cooperating, you idiot." A series of kicks landed in the middle of my back, making it arch and I felt a stabbing pain shoot through my chest in response.

"I suggest you be more polite, Mr. Curtis." I bit back a growl. I'd like to see him be polite after being starved and tortured for two days. Among other things. I did my best to avoid thinking about Chu, the guard who'd attacked me that first night in my cell. I hadn't seen him again and I hoped I never would.

I heard more orders I didn't understand, then the rope binding my hands together was cut and I was being pulled up by the two guards. Someone had popped my arm back into place the day before, but it was still sore and the pain flared as they dragged me through the corridor. My stomach sank when we reached my cell and I saw Chu standing guard outside it. I recognized him instantly; his face was burned into my memory. His mouth curved into a hungry smile when he saw me and I wanted to hurl. I think the only thing that stopped me was that there was nothing in my stomach to throw up.

When the guards tossed me into my cell, I dragged myself into the corner and curled into a ball. My only thought was that maybe in a corner I had some chance of protecting myself. It wasn't long before I heard low voices outside the door and I knew the guards were switching shifts. A minute later, the door opened and Chu stepped in. I pushed myself further into the corner, trying to make myself as small as possible. One experience with Chu had been more than enough. He closed the door behind him, then stepped closer to me and knelt down. He reached out to touch my cheek and I flinched. I hated the feel of his skin touching mine.

He grabbed hold of my arms and dragged me out of my corner. I struggled, but my pitiful attempts to defend myself just made him laugh. Not only was I starved and injured, but he was strong, probably stronger than I was even at my best. It didn't take long for him to get my clothes off, quickly followed by his, then he pinned me down, kissing and groping anywhere he could reach. I squeezed my eyes closed and turned my head away, trying to block out what was happening and praying it would be over quickly.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"Pony!" I yelled, hammering on his door for what felt like the hundredth time. "Pony, you can't stay in there forever!"

"Go away!" he screamed from the other side of the door.

I sighed and leaned my forehead against the doorframe. After hearing the news about Soda the night before, Ponyboy had locked himself in his room and hadn't come out. I was tempted to get the key and force him out, but Two-Bit stopped me. "He's hurting. Give him time," my friend said, coming to stand next to me and putting a hand on my shoulder.

I nodded and pushed myself away from the door. I knew Pony needed some time to accept what had happened, but I didn't like him shutting himself away. For one thing, I was worried he'd do something stupid and hurt himself, but I also wanted him to come out for my own sake. I'd lost my brother, too. Although from Pony's perspective, we hadn't lost Soda; he was just "missing." As much as I wanted to believe he was alive somewhere, I knew better than to hold on to false hope. It would just be a bigger blow later when Soda didn't come home.

I took one last look at the closed door in front of me, then turned and headed for the kitchen. Two-Bit followed me and we both sat down at the table. He'd been my shadow for the last sixteen hours. Maybe he needed comfort of his own, or maybe he had the same fears about me that I had about Ponyboy. Either way, I was grateful for his presence. I didn't want to be alone.

"Ya know, Darry," he spoke up. "If Pony really wants to lock himself up, maybe we should convince him to lock himself in the bathroom. At least that way he can have a shower and take a piss."

I stared at Two-Bit incredulously for a second, then burst out laughing. Only he could come up with something funny at a time like this and it made me even more grateful to have him with me.

"What the hell could possibly be so funny?" I immediately stopped laughing and looked up to find Ponyboy standing in front of us, arms crossed, scowling.

Two-Bit opened his mouth to repeat what he'd said, but I quickly reached over and covered it with my hand. "Nothing, Pone. You came out," I stated, not sure what to make of the development.

Pony nodded and continued to glare at us. For a solid minute I just sat there, not able to think of a single thing to say. Finally, he broke the silence. "He ain't dead," he stated. From the way he talked, I could tell he completely believed it.

"Pone," I started, "he's in the middle of Vietnam and they can't find him."

"That doesn't mean he's dead," Pony insisted. "They didn't find a body, either. He ain't dead. And we ain't having a funeral."

I had to admit that there was a small piece of me that was desperately hoping Pony was right. I knew it was stupid, and I knew I would regret it later when reality came crashing down on me, but I had to hold on to that little piece of hope if I wanted to keep my sanity. And it didn't feel right to have a funeral when we weren't one hundred percent sure. "Okay, Pone." He looked at me uncertainly, not sure if I was actually agreeing with him or just humoring him. "Really, Pony," I assured him. "If they don't find a body, we won't have a funeral." I had to choke that sentence out. It felt horrible to be thinking of Soda's body, lifeless, lying somewhere in the jungles of a foreign country.

I was saved from my thoughts by a strangled sobbing sound. Pony was crying and I moved to hug him, trying to offer him comfort and take some for myself in return. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his head into my shirt. I felt another arm around me and looked over to find Two-Bit hugging both of us. I took one arm off Pony and wrapped it around my friend. He'd lost family too.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Four days. My sense of time was getting warped, but I was pretty sure it had been four days since I'd eaten. I'd been given a few spoonfuls of water each day; enough to keep me alive, but nothing more. During the time I spent in my cell I didn't have the energy to do anything more than lie and wait for them to come back for me, or wait for Chu to pay me another visit. He'd come a third time, and it had taken all my energy just to get dressed again after.

The door to my cell opened and I blinked at the light that flowed in from the corridor. I struggled a little as two guards came in and pulled me to my feet, but quickly stopped bothering to waste my energy; I'd save it for whatever they had planned. They dragged me into an empty room where Mr. Vo was waiting and my stomach clenched at the sight of him, knowing more questions I couldn't answer would be coming. I'd had the vague hope that maybe the guards had been taking me to food, or even a shower, and I mentally laughed at myself. I should've known better.

"Hello, Mr. Curtis," Mr. Vo said calmly as I was shoved to the ground. I glared at him and waited for the questions to start. "Have you decided to tell me what you know?"

A sudden surge of energy ran through me and I had to use all my self control to keep from strangling him. I kept my mouth shut, afraid that if I said anything at all I would end up attacking him. I waited for the blows that would come from my silence; when they started, I concentrated on staying on my knees for as long as I could. I made it through one endless round and when the assault ended, I collapsed on the ground, breathless.

I heard foreign words exchanged and one of the guards left the room. Fear pulsed in my veins as I wondered what he was doing. I didn't have to wait long; in a couple of minutes he returned with two more guards. With a jolt, I saw that they had another prisoner with them.

He was an American soldier, so he must've been at least eighteen, but he didn't look a day older than sixteen, if that. His eyes darted around the room, his terror showing clearly in them. When he saw me, he let out a small squeal. He looked relatively unhurt, but I was sure I looked awful. "Wh—what's g—going on?" he stammered. I wanted to know the same thing. I pushed myself into a sitting position, but Mr. Vo spoke up before I had a chance to do anything else.

"What were you doing on this side of the river, Mr. Curtis?"

I whipped my head towards him, blinking away the spots that came to my vision at the sudden movement. What did this kid have to do with why I was anywhere? A violent kick landed in my back and I heard a small cry from the kid. Glory, he must've been innocent to get upset over one kick. Or maybe I looked worse than I thought. "I was running from a sniper—" I was cut off by another kick, this one to my front, and I hissed as another rib broke. I looked again at the kid across from me and tried to figure out why they'd brought him into the room. "What's he doing here?"

"Answer the question," Mr. Vo ordered, ignoring me.

"I already did," I spat. "Now answer mine."

"Why were you on this side of the river?" he repeated.

"Why is he here?" I demanded again, infuriated.

The guard closest to me suddenly slammed his fist into my face. The force of the blow sent me onto my side and I heard another moan from the kid. "Why won't you just answer him?!" he cried.

I stared back at him, pity rising in me as I took a good look at him. His hair was caked with dirt, but it looked like it was blonde underneath. His wide, blue eyes stared back at me fearfully. There was hardly any sign of a beard on his face, indicating he'd either just been captured or his body hadn't developed much of one yet. He'd obviously never seen anything like this before. He probably came from some nice family in the suburbs of a quiet town. He shouldn't have to be here. I shouldn't be here, either. I'd seen my share of violence before, but the wars of Tulsa were nothing compared to this. These guys would stop at nothing to get what they wanted, and there was no one here to help us.

"Why won't you answer them?" he asked again.

"I already did," I sighed. "I've been telling them the truth, everything I know, for days. They won't believe me."

"What do they want me for?" he asked.

I shook my head sadly at him. "I don't know."

"Are you going to answer me, Mr. Curtis?" Mr. Vo asked again.

"If I tell you I was running from a sniper, will you believe me this time?" I groaned as my smart remark earned me another kick to the back.

"Very well." Mr. Vo issued some orders and one of the guards left. I looked wearily at the kid; he looked like he was almost shaking with fear. To be honest, I wasn't too far behind him. This wasn't just another torture session. Mr. Vo had something more planned, I just couldn't figure out what. As soon as the guard came back, though, all the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Years of working at the DX had made me more than familiar with the smell of gasoline and the container the guard was now holding absolutely reeked of it. My heart jumped into my throat as I realized why they must've brought this kid in here, but I prayed to God I was wrong.

My mind started racing to come up with a plausible story, trying to fight the stupor that starvation had brought on it. "I was doing surveillance!" I blurted out.

"What were you looking for?" Mr. Vo asked.

I said the first thing that came to my mind. "A building. I was looking for a building."

I saw Mr. Vo nod to the guard with the gasoline, who started to move towards the kid. The kid's eyes darted back and forth between me and him. I could hear his rapid breathing even with the dozen or so feet between us. He'd obviously figured out their intention, too. "And people!" I hastily added. Mr. Vo put his hand up and the guard stopped. Encouraged, I kept going. "I was supposed to scout around and see if there were any groups of your soldiers and where they were."

Mr. Vo nodded again and suddenly the guard poured the gasoline on the kid. He coughed and spat some out, then looked at me, horrified. "Please, say something to stop them!" he begged. I could see tears start to form in his eyes and my mind raced to come up with something Vo wanted to hear.

"I was looking for soldiers by themselves, too!" I tried, and I panicked when I saw Mr. Vo nod again. "And places they could be hiding!"

The guard who'd brought in the gasoline struck a match and the kid started sobbing. "Please!" he cried. "Please stop them!"

"I was watching soldiers' movements, too!" I cried. When the guard didn't put the match out, I did the only thing I could think of. I launched myself at him, hoping to knock the match away from the kid, but I was shoved to the ground the second I moved. The match dropped, and the effect was instant. The kid's body was immediately engulfed in flames while I could do nothing but watch. His screams rang through the room and I frantically struggled to get up to help him, but I was pinned to the ground by two guards. The seconds stretched on and his screams grew louder as he thrashed back and forth, futilely trying to stop the pain.

I squeezed my eyes closed, feeling tears slide down my cheeks as I did. Instantly, I felt hands on my face and suddenly my eyes were being pried open and my head held in place so I couldn't look away. His screams had stopped now and he lay motionless, but the flames still consumed his body, burning away at his flesh. The smell of scorched skin permeated my senses, overpowering the fumes of the gasoline. Finally, when I thought I might become the first person to ever vomit up my actual stomach, a guard took a bucket I hadn't noticed from the corner and dumped water on the flames. Even with the fire extinguished, the smell was suffocating.

"Why would your superiors send a private to observe enemy movements? You would not have enough experience to complete the task adequately."

Mr. Vo's words barely even registered in my mind. All I knew was that I'd failed. I hadn't been able to come up with a good enough story and an innocent kid had died in agony because of it. I was pulled to my feet and led out of the room and down the corridor. In my shock, I hardly noticed. When my cell door closed behind me, I collapsed on the floor, sobbing. My broken ribs protested, but I just kept crying harder. That kid had probably never done anything wrong to anybody in his entire life, and now he was dead and it was all my fault.


	3. Chapter 3

So, this chapter is all Soda. I wasn't sure if that was a good idea, given the content of his perspective, but in the end I decided that this had to be its own chapter. Except for the parts that refer specifically to this story, pretty much all of this chapter is based on personal accounts I've read. I melded them together and added a little, but not much.

To read . on--I can understand if you only skim certain parts of the story. I don't mind. As for Darry—point well taken. I have a Darry scene next chapter that was mostly written already, but I've added to it and hopefully you'll see more of a reaction from him there. Thanks for the advice!

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

And when we're done

Soul searching

As we carried the weight

And died for the cause

Is misery

Made beautiful

Right before our eyes

Will mercy be revealed

Or blind us where we stand

~Sarah McLachlan—Witness

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Sometime after the fire, the guards came to get me for another session with Mr. Vo. I had no idea how much time had passed, but somewhere in the back of my head I knew it couldn't have been more than a day; I still hadn't eaten and the human body could only survive for so long without food. I hadn't slept a wink since I'd been brought back to my cell. Every time I closed my eyes all I could see was the kid's body being incinerated. Instead I just stared into space, trying to forget everything.

The guards each grabbed one of my arms and pulled me to my feet, but when they tried to drag me out of my cell, I fell limp between them. They shouted angrily at me and slapped me across the face, then dropped me to the ground. When a few kicks still didn't get a response from me, they started talking with the guards outside the door. Between the shock I was still in, the sleep deprivation, and the hunger, I honestly don't think I could've moved if they'd opened the front door of the place and told me to walk out.

I was vaguely aware of movement and more talking, and then something was suddenly shoved next to my face. I slowly lifted my head up to investigate and found two bowls, one with rice and one with a clear broth. I didn't think it was possible for rice to go moldy, but this stuff had a thin layer of fuzz starting to grow in places. I couldn't bring myself to care about the state of the food, though; I reached out a shaking hand to grab the spoon and quickly started shoveling the disgusting mess into my mouth.

When I'd managed to finish both bowls of food, the guards once again hauled me to my feet and this time I was able to stumble along between them to face the next round of torment. I was brought into a room and once again forced onto my knees. The stingy meal had given me a bit of energy and I looked around the room. My eyes landed on the guard standing next to Mr. Vo and I instantly recognized him as the guard who'd lit the match the day before. I wanted to strangle him, to watch the life drain out of him slowly and painfully, but I knew I'd be stopped before I had any chance of accomplishing this, so I forced myself to stay where I was.

"Good evening, Mr. Curtis," Mr. Vo said serenely.

I kept my mouth shut and glared at him, deciding I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of playing along with any of his games. They could do whatever they wanted; it really didn't matter at this point. Nothing I said ever made any difference, so why bother trying?

"I'd hoped that seeing Mr. James yesterday would convince you to comply with us, but instead you made the foolish decision to invent a story. I'm afraid this will not work to your advantage, and it certainly did not work to Mr. James' advantage."

I stared blankly at him, confused, until I managed to figure out that Mr. James was the kid he'd had murdered. I gritted my teeth together hard, trying to contain the anger that was boiling inside of me.

"Will you tell me the real reason you were on this side of the river?"

I kept my silence, knowing I didn't have any other real option. Mr. Vo nodded and the guard next to him stepped forward to start the session. Strike after strike came and when the three guards finally stepped back, I lay in a crumpled ball. I looked up to find the pyromaniac guard leering over me. He smirked, and my last bit of restraint snapped.

I brought my foot up and smashed it into his kneecap, putting as much force behind the blow as I could muster. He let out a howl of pain and stumbled back against the wall, holding his injured knee and shouting a string of foreign curse words I couldn't understand. The remaining two guards were instantly on me, pummeling me with a fresh round of kicks and punches. When the guard had recovered, he muttered a few words to Mr. Vo, who nodded at him, and he left the room. The feeling of self satisfaction started to wear off as I realized my tiny rebellion would likely have harsh consequences.

The room was completely silent, not even Mr. Vo saying a word. My heart started to beat faster as I wondered what was going to happen. When the guard came back with a long, thin rope and a metal pole, my heart went into double time. The pole dropped to the ground in front of me, landing inches from my face, and I flinched in spite of myself.

I felt myself being pulled into a sitting position, but my eyes stayed glued to the pole. It had restraints attached to it, and my breath hitched as I realized how bad this could be. The guard I'd attacked grabbed my legs and shoved my ankles into the restraints, locking them tight. My mind was so clouded with dread I couldn't even figure out if I should try fighting back till it was too late.

As soon as my legs were rendered useless, he took the rope and moved around behind me with the other guards. My right shirt sleeve was yanked up and rope was wound around my arm. He pulled the knot tight and I tried not to wince as the rope cut into my skin. He made another couple of knots and then I felt him pull the rope across my back and bring it under my left arm. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I knew it couldn't be good. He braced his foot on my side and gave the rope one fierce pull, wrenching my arm in the wrong direction. I gasped in pain and squeezed my eyes closed. One of the other guards pushed my arm further over while my tormentor kept pulling the rope, finally tying it around my left arm.

The guards worked together, pulling the rope so tight I was sure it had to be at its limit. With every tug my arms squeezed a fraction of an inch closer together until I wanted to scream from the pain. They kept going till my whole upper arms were bound and my elbows were pushed completely together.

The injured guard walked around by my feet, holding the rope in his hands as he did. One of the guards lifted the pole off the ground an inch and the rope was looped around it. Oh God. What was he going to do now? He watched me, grinning, waiting for my reaction. The fear built and I started to wonder if this was worth it, if maybe I should just give in and apologize. I knew that was what he wanted. Then it was too late. He braced his foot on the pole and yanked on the rope; my arms shot down to the ground, bringing the rest of my upper body with them. Excruciating pain shot down my spine and through my chest and raw screams of agony ripped from my throat as I felt my shoulders tear out of their sockets. I dimly felt my arms move another inch closer to my feet as he pulled the ropes to their limit and I kept screaming, unable to stop myself. A foot pressed down on my back, pushing it further down and allowing the guard to pull the ropes tighter still; my face was pressed into my legs and I could feel my arms on the back of my head, a position that was only possible because of my now dislocated shoulders.

My entire upper half felt like it was being ripped apart. The only thing I held on to in my mind was the knowledge that this couldn't last forever; he'd have to get tired eventually and let go. Then, through the numbness in my hands I felt something wrap around my wrists and tug. My stomach churned as the horror of what he was doing dawned on me. He was tying the rope around my wrists, anchoring them to the pole. He didn't have to hold on anymore; he could leave me here as long as he wanted.

"Wait!" I cried desperately, my words muffled by the material of my pants. "I'm sorry! Okay? I apologize! I'm sorry!" I could feel more tugging on my wrists as he ignored me and continued to bind them to the ground. "Please! I'm sorry!" I tried again, struggling to hold back tears as the pulling of the ropes made pain flare in my shoulders.

Finally the pulling stopped and for one crazy, hopeful second I thought that it might be over. Then I could feel hot breath beside my head and a malicious voice hissed a few foreign words in my ear. "He said, 'too late,'" Mr. Vo translated.

I heard shuffling and the pole was dropped back to the floor. It had only been an inch off the ground, but the slight motion sent waves of pain up and down my body and I let out another scream. The foot came off my back, but the ropes were pulled so tightly that it stayed in the same position. There was more moving around and I heard the door open.

Oh God. They couldn't leave me here. I'd go insane. "I'm sorry!" I screamed one last time. The light turned off and the door slammed closed. I was alone, I couldn't move an inch, and I could barely breathe through the pain. My ribs felt like they were going to be ripped right out of my chest and my back felt like a sledgehammer was striking it over and over. My arms, thankfully, were completely numb but my shoulders were burning with the pain of my mangled bones. My head was wedged between my legs, making it even harder to breathe. I tried desperately to move it but my arms were right on top of it, pressing it down.

I didn't know how long they were going to leave me there and I started to panic. What if they never came back? What if they just left me here till I starved or suffocated? Was it possible to suffocate like this? Every breath was agonizing, but I seemed to be getting enough air in. For now.

The absolute blackness engulfed me and I started to feel nauseous. I fought against it, turning my mind to anything else. I knew if I got sick, my face would be stuck in it till the guards came back. I thought of home, of Darry, Ponyboy, and Two-Bit. The army must've told them I was missing by now. I wondered how they were holding up. Pony would be devastated and I started to worry that he might fall apart. And Darry would act tough, but I knew he'd be just as devastated. I remembered hearing him crying in his room at night after Mom and Dad died. Pony was always asleep so he'd never heard it and I'd never said a word about it to Darry. I wondered if he was crying right now, thinking I was dead. _Did_ they think I was dead? Or were they still hoping that maybe I'd be found?

The thoughts became too awful and I turned my mind to Two-Bit. I started thinking about all the crazy stuff he'd pulled over the years. I remembered the time he'd gotten me jailed cause he'd started doing handstands downtown and had goaded me into competing with him. Mom had been pissed, but Dad had just laughed, saying he'd never heard of anyone getting in trouble with the fuzz for doing a handstand.

A spasm of pain coursed through my back and I gasped. Another spasm hit and I bit down on my lip to stop from screaming. Bile rose in my throat and I forcefully swallowed it back. More spasms came and my muscles pulled instinctively against the bindings, but the ropes held fast. I screamed, over and over, until the spasms finally died down. My body wanted to curl into a ball but all I could do was sit there, contorted, stretched, and bound.

The night dragged on in darkness. I tried to distract myself, to recreate memories from home, and it worked for a while until my body would be raked by more spasms. I didn't know how much longer I could stand the pain. My self control started to break down and I felt tears start to soak my pants. The sobs just made the pain worse, but I couldn't stop them. It got harder and harder to breathe and I started to think I'd suffocate if I couldn't get my head up.

Fear was grating on me—fear of suffocation, fear of losing my arms to gangrene, fear of being left to die. It started to consume me until even thoughts of home couldn't drown it out. If I didn't die before they came back, I'd go insane. I was so sure of this that when a little bit of light reached my eyes I was sure I'd lost my mind. The light got brighter and I realized that the sun was starting to show through the small window in the room. It had been sunset when the guards had started tying up my arms.

Torture can't last forever, can it? At some point it has to end, or a person dies. But if someone dies of torture, it never really ends, does it? They never experience anything after it. Was I going to be tortured forever, beaten and drowned and starved until I died?

I focused all my attention on the light, trying to stop myself from thinking, from feeling. Finally, I heard the door open and footsteps entered the room.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, almost to myself. Then, afraid the guard couldn't hear it, I tried again, louder. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

There was silence for a minute while I waited helplessly for what would happen next. Suddenly I felt a pressure on my back and I let out a sob from the pain the weight sent through my body. Then, the pressure increased and I vaguely felt pressure on my head, too before, unbelievably, the pain soared to a new level. It was everywhere, penetrating every fiber of my being, consuming me until I could focus on nothing else. I could no longer feel the ropes binding my arms or the weight on my back and head. There was only the pain. I didn't even know if I was screaming or not. Then abruptly, in a brief moment of awareness, I discovered I was no longer tied up. I lay on my side and saw the guard ravel up the last of the rope that had trapped me.

The circulation began to come back to my arms and a new wave of agony began. I writhed on the floor as the pain rippled through my body; the nausea I'd somehow held in even at the end became too much and I vomited up the meager contents of my stomach.

My head span as I was pulled to my feet. My legs were like jello after being in one position for so long and I was more or less dragged down the corridor. I screamed when they threw me in my cell and I landed on my shoulder. Spots swam in my vision and I struggled to blink them away. I wasn't gonna pass out cause of what that bastard did to me. I'd apologized, but I wouldn't give him this.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: As I said, this was all based on real accounts that I've read. This chapter was incredibly hard to write. Part of it's been done for a while, but when I went to finish it tonight, I swear it took me an hour before I could even start it. I hope I did it justice.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry it took me so long to update. Work and school have been crazy, then I was knocked flat with a cold this week. I officially have a stabbing pain in my back from coughing so much. But the good news is that the next chapter is almost entirely written. Thanks so much to those who have been reading, and especially to those who've reviewed. They really mean a lot to me!

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

And now I'm alone I'm looking out, I'm looking in  
Way down, the lights are dimmer

~Thirteen Senses—Into the Fire

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"You sure you're gonna be okay, kid?" My question earned a hard glare from Ponyboy, who'd already stepped out of the car. It was his first day back to work since Soda's disappearance and I wasn't too sure he was ready for it, no matter how much he insisted. On the other hand, it would keep him occupied. He'd spent most of the past week moping around the house, not doing anything more than the bare minimum required of him.

"I'll be fine, Two-Bit." Without another word he slammed the car door and quickly disappeared inside the building. It wasn't the first time I'd offered to drive Pony to work and usually I hung around and bet on the horses while I waited, but I wasn't in the mood tonight. Besides, I wanted to check up on Darry. He'd be home from work by now and I wasn't too comfortable leaving him alone in the house. I wasn't worried about him pulling any stupid stunts—I knew he wouldn't try that when he still had Pony to take care of and I didn't really think he'd try it even if he didn't have the kid. But, I also knew how depressing that house could be these days, what with more than half his family either dead or missing.

I frowned as I pulled into the Curtis' driveway and saw Darry's bedroom light on. Earlier in the week I'd found him alone in his room, reading over the letters Soda had sent home. Pony had told me he'd seen the same thing and I was sure that was exactly what he was doing now.

As I turned off the engine and headed inside, I sighed. When did I become the responsible one? I'd always watched out for the gang, but I used to just let them come to me if they needed help. Now suddenly I was spending my Saturday night checking up on Darry of all people. It's not like there was anyone else around to do it. Pony was doing his best, but he couldn't be around all the time and he wasn't exactly in the best shape himself.

I went inside and quietly walked to the end of the hall. Darry's door was closed to a crack; I gently pushed it open and leaned against the doorframe. Sure enough, Darry was sitting on the edge of the bed, one of Soda's letters in his hand and the rest in a pile beside him. "This ain't healthy, Dare." His head snapped up at the sound of my voice and he hurriedly put the letters into his nightstand drawer.

"Hey, Two-Bit. Pony get to work okay?"

I frowned at the casualness of his tone but decided to leave it be. "Yeah, I got him there."

"Thanks. You still okay picking him up?" He sounded exhausted, so I nodded.

"Sure, no problem. Listen, why don't you take a shower and I'll get us something to eat?" I suggested. He nodded and headed to the bathroom. As I watched him close the door, I wondered for the hundredth time this week what on earth I could do to help him. I groaned and rubbed my hands over my face. I knew I couldn't do anything more than I already was. I could make sure that Pony stayed safe and that they both were eating and sleeping, but otherwise I was helpless. Unless Soda was found, neither of them would be okay. Time would help, but they'd never be the same.

I shook my head and made my way to the kitchen to find something for dinner. As I was rummaging through the fridge trying to figure out what was the easiest to make, someone knocked at the door. I popped my head out of the fridge and looked towards the door, confused. There weren't a lot of people left who'd be knocking. Shrugging, I moved to answer the door and was thoroughly surprised by who I found there.

"Mom? What are you doin' here?"

My mom smiled at me and handed me a large leftover dish. "I thought you'd be here and I had a bad feeling you might be the one to end up cooking dinner."

I pulled a face. "Hey, I can cook just fine," I said confidently. It was partly true. I could cook toast, anyway. My mom just raised an eyebrow at me and I smiled sheepishly. Lifting the cover of the dish, I found meatloaf, green beans, and baked potatoes.

"How're they doing?" she asked.

"As good as you can expect, I guess," I answered. "Darry'll hardly talk about it, though. I caught him looking at Soda's letters again."

"He'll get better with time." I just shrugged and stared at the ground. I hoped she was right. "How're you doing, Ketih?" I looked up in surprise. "I've hardly seen you this week. I'm not mad," she added as I started to apologize. "This is where you should be right now. But, how are you doing?"

I stood for a minute trying to figure out how to answer her. I'd been so busy looking after Darry and Ponyboy I'd hardly even thought about how I was feeling. I knew this was harder for them, but that didn't change the fact that I'd lost one of my best friends. "I've been better," I finally admitted. I knew better than to lie to my mom. I'd tried it too many times and she always knew.

She put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Do you need anything? A change of clothes? Or maybe a toothbrush?"

I smiled a little, realizing I'd hardly even been home enough to brush my teeth. "No, I'll grab a few things when I go to pick Pony up later." She nodded and turned to leave. "Mom?" She stopped and looked back. "Thanks for dinner."

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I tried, but I couldn't hold my breath any longer. Water flowed into my lungs at the same time as the guard yanked me out. I coughed, spitting up water, and tried to take another breath before he shoved me back in. My gag reflex was still trying to get the water out and I tried to keep my mouth shut, but I barely lasted more than a few seconds. As my body tried to cough up the water I'd sucked in last time, more water poured in. I struggled against the guard's hands, but he held me down. I was drowning, breathing in more and more water. Then I was on the ground coughing everything up. My chest felt like it was going to explode as my ribs protested the movements, but I didn't have any control over it.

When the guard picked me back up I realized just in time what was happening and gasped in a small lungful of air. My shoulders were on fire from how the guard was holding me and my lungs were burning, begging me for a break. All I could do was try my hardest to keep my mouth closed, even after I'd long used up the oxygen in my system.

Eventually I had to give in and the water rushed in again. Over and over I struggled to cough up water and take another breath in time until I was sure I was gonna die.

The guard threw me back on the floor and I struggled to stay conscious as I retched. "Why were you on this side of the river?" The voice broke through the haze that filled my mind and I realized I needed to come up with another story. The ones I'd tried before hadn't worked, but I had to try something or I'd drown.

"I—I was—looking for—a friend," I gasped between coughs.

"And why was your friend on this side of the river?"

Damn it. I hadn't thought of that. I tried to come up with some sort of reason but my mind was too sluggish and before I knew it I was back in the water. The next time the guard threw me on the ground it took all my effort just to stay awake. I was sure if I passed out I would die. I raked my brain for some sort of plausible story but I couldn't come up with anything. Fortunately, Mr. Vo didn't want me dead yet. He barked out a few orders and I was pulled back to my feet. Before we'd made it two steps I collapsed and as the guards caught me, my weight pulled on my dislocated shoulders. I didn't even feel the pain before I blacked out.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I woke up to someone touching me—Chu—and I tried to lift my arms to push him away, but they wouldn't work. They may as well have not been there for all the good they were doing me. For a second I was confused, thinking he was holding them down, but then the memory of the ropes came flooding back to me. Had that really only been last night? It already seemed like a lifetime ago.

He shoved his tongue into my mouth and I fought back the only way I could; I bit down, hard. He yelled and pulled away, but my brief moment of triumph was cut short by a rough backhand to my face. He stayed smart for the rest of the time and kept away from my teeth. My legs weren't any use in fighting him off, so all I could do was lie there helplessly while he did whatever he wanted. It wasn't like I'd ever been able to keep him away when I could use my arms, but at least it had felt like I'd had some sort of control. Now I was completely at his mercy with no chance to defend myself, however futile those attempts might have been.

When he was done, he dug his knee into my back and grabbed my arm. I shuddered and tried not to think about what he was planning. Suddenly, pain erupted in my shoulder as he popped the arm back into place, then moved onto the other one. Blackness started to engulf me and I concentrated on the sound of my heart pounding in my ears, trying to use it to anchor me. I didn't want to be unconscious with Chu around. He'd do whatever he wanted anyway, but the thought of not even knowing what he was doing was too much.

As he got up and closed the cell door behind him, I started struggling to sit up. I tried to push myself up onto my arms, but I couldn't make them do what I wanted. Terror started to grip me as I kept trying to move them. Everything was back where it was supposed to be, so why wouldn't my arms work?

My breath started coming in gasps as I lay there, trying in vain to make my arms do something, anything. The more I tried, the more panicked I got. The ropes had been on too tight and too long and now my arms were gone. This place was bad enough with full use of all my limbs; I couldn't even begin to think about what it would be like now.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

When my alarm clock went off at 6:30, I listlessly reached over and turned it off. I'd been awake for hours, listening to the rain pound the roof as I became lost in my own morbid thoughts. It was Sodapop's nineteenth birthday, but we didn't even know if there was a birthday to celebrate. There'd been no more news since the army had informed us of his "missing in action" status almost two weeks before. Ponyboy was still utterly convinced that Soda was out there somewhere and no one could tell him otherwise. I didn't know what to believe anymore. I almost wished the army could give us some kind of news, even if it was that they'd found Soda's body. Not knowing was driving me crazy. I felt like my mind was constantly playing tug of war with itself, wishing that Soda was alive but reminding me over and over that it was stupid to hope for the impossible.

I groaned and shook my head, trying to clear it. I'd barely been sleeping since we'd gotten the news. Nightmares woke me up most nights and afterwards I would lie awake, images of Sodapop's death dancing in my mind's eye and toying with my sanity.

Sighing, I forced myself to get up and slowly plodded down the hall to the living room. I'd been hoping the bad weather would hold off so I could keep myself busy for the day, but a quick phone call to my boss confirmed that my current roofing site was closed down because of the rain. I made my way back down the hall and quietly knocked on Ponyboy's bedroom door, testing to see if he was awake. When I didn't hear anything, I opened the door and poked my head in the room.

"Pony?" I called softly. I could vaguely make out the outline of a lump in the bed, which wasn't moving, so I tried again. "Pony? It's time to get up for school." This time I got a response.

"I'm not going." His head was buried under the blankets, so the reply was muffled, but his tone was still firm.

I sighed took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Pone, you can't shut down. Soda wouldn't want that." I felt like a hypocrite, cause shutting down was all I really wanted to do.

The lump in the bed rolled over and Pony's head poked out above the covers. "I'll go tomorrow, Dare, I promise. I just—I don't wanna see anyone today. I just wanna stay here." His voice gradually got softer until he was whispering the last sentence. He dropped his gaze and started fidgeting with the blanket, waiting for me to make him get up and go to school anyway. That was exactly what I'd planned to do when I'd walked into the room. I'd been forcing myself to keep going and I didn't want Pony shutting himself away, avoiding his own life while he mourned the possible loss of our brother's. I'd planned to drag Pony out from under the covers and drop him off in his pajamas if it came to that, but somehow I found myself doing the exact opposite.

I pulled the covers back and climbed onto Soda's side of the bed, then covered us both back up. Pony looked at me like I'd just lost my marbles, but I ignored it. "The school will still be there tomorrow," I said softly, then shifted myself till I was completely under the blankets, head and all. I felt Pony do the same beside me and when he was settled, I pulled him close. I wanted to cry, but somehow I couldn't seem to summon the energy. I sunk into my stupor from earlier and listened to the rain come down, my youngest brother held tightly in my arms.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review, and I'm always open to suggestions.


	5. Chapter 5

Lots of Pony in this chapter. I really see the song I used for this chapter coming from his point of view. And I won't lie—the first couple paragraphs of Pony's pov is pure self indulgence, but it was a good catharsis.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Turn on channel 7 at a quarter to eight

You see the same damn thing it's just a different day

And no one really knows why this is happening

People always tell me that this is part of the plan

That God's got everybody in his hands,

But I can only pray that god is listening

~~Good Charlotte—The World is Black

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I was sure I had to be dreaming when I opened my eyes and saw the giant rat staring back at me. It suddenly took a swipe at my face, probably testing to see if I was dead so it could eat me. I jerked away from it and, startled, it ran off into a dark corner. It wasn't the first rat I'd seen in this place and I was sure it wouldn't be the last. I shuddered and tried to pretend there wasn't one presently sharing my cell with me. Instead, I forced myself to turn my head towards the door, hoping some food had been left for me while I'd been asleep. Sure enough, there were two bowls about a foot away from me.

I wasn't even sure how long I'd been there anymore. I'd lost track of time, but I thought a couple of weeks had probably passed by since I'd last seen anyone for more than a minute. The guards shoved food into my cell twice a day, but otherwise I'd been left alone. Mr. Vo seemed to have decided that I wasn't going to give him the information he wanted and I hadn't seen anyone, even Chu, since. It was a relief to have a break from the torture, but the total isolation was starting to get to me.

I used my legs to push myself towards the food and groaned as my head started spinning at the movement. I was pretty sure I had a fever; the last time I'd woken up I'd been freezing cold, even though I'd been baking hot when I'd fallen asleep. Right now I felt like I was in a greenhouse. I hadn't been given any medical attention and I knew my only chance of beating the infection was to keep my strength up as best I could.

After a couple of tries I made it to the food bowls and managed to prop myself up on my elbow. I was starting to get a bit of control back in my arms and hands, but not much; I couldn't pick anything up without dropping it seconds later. As frustrating as it was, it was still a huge relief to know they weren't permanently useless.

I peered through the darkness into the food bowls, hoping to see something different than the rice and clear soup that was always there, but what I saw horrified me. Half of the rice was gone and the bowl of soup was definitely not as full as it usually was. My first thought was that the guards were cutting back my already pathetic food rations. Something about that didn't seem right, though. Then with sudden horror, I realized where the food had gone. Now I knew why the rats around here were so big.

I looked at the remains of my food in distaste. The thought of eating the rat's leftovers was less than appealing, but I knew if I didn't eat it I may as well sign my own death certificate. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the bacteria that was probably crawling all over the food. I figured that was how I'd gotten sick in the first place. More than once I'd found dead cockroaches, or whatever the Vietnamese version of them was, floating in the soup. At least it was better than the first few days, when they hadn't given me any food at all.

Eating was slow with arms that were barely working and by the time I'd finished, I was almost passing out from exhaustion. As I felt myself drifting away into nothingness, I heard a small squeak and saw the rat slink over to the empty bowls to see if I'd left anything. After finding nothing, it turned it's head towards me, and I was sure I saw it bare it's teeth in anger. It crept closer and I backed away, but the movement sapped the last of my energy and I felt myself passing out. I tried to stay awake in case the rat tried anything, but the void of unconsciousness was pulling me in.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"Pony!" I looked up from the pile of dishes I was bent over to see Mary standing in the doorway. "I need you to bus some tables for me," she said once she had my attention.

I suppressed a groan as I followed her out the door. Mary was one of my favorite servers and normally I did whatever she wanted, but right then I was backed up on my own work. I started on the closest table first and before I'd even finished a group moved to sit down at it. For some unknown reason we were being completely slammed; it seemed like everyone in Tulsa had decided to go to the horse races tonight. As I moved onto the next table, I watched Mary bring the new group menus, giving them a big fake smile as she did. She was twenty and working her way through college as best she could. Her family wanted her to go to school, but didn't have enough money to send her themselves. I could sympathize with her there.

I kept clearing tables as fast as I could, but somehow it seemed like they never ended. How could people eat this much food, anyway? I turned around just in time to see a couple sit down at a dirty table and this time I did groan. I would never understand why people sat at dirty tables when there were five clean ones nearby. They stared at me as I wiped the table clean and I ran off before they could ask for a menu. It was times like these that I wished I worked at a real restaurant, where people had to wait to be seated. This place was half restaurant, half cafeteria. Most of the time it worked pretty well, but nights like these were hell. The positive side was that being so busy kept me distracted. It was exactly one month to the day that we'd been told Soda had gone missing and I'd been struggling to keep my emotions in check all day. I'd somewhat hoped for a busy night, but this was overkill.

When it finally slowed down a couple hours later, I grabbed my pack of smokes and a lighter and headed outside for a break. There were a couple people from the upstairs restaurant already outside, but I didn't really know them and I wasn't feeling particularly chatty, so I headed around the corner and had a seat on the ground. I leaned back against the wall, lit up, and took a long drag, relishing in the first quiet moment I'd had most of the night. I was too exhausted to think, much less dwell on the anniversary I was trying to avoid.

I let myself zone out, the voices around the corner a distant hum in the background until something one of them said caught my attention. "This war is getting out of control. My neighbors' grandson was killed last week. They're pretty torn up about it."

I heard a door close and the voices disappeared as the pair went back inside. It had only been a couple of sentences, but it was enough to bring reality crashing back down on me. Sodapop had been missing a whole month in the jungles of Vietnam. If he hadn't shown up by now, what were the odds they would ever find him? Darry and I had grown closer in the past two years, and especially in the three months that Soda had been gone, but no one could ever replace Sodapop. He always listened to me, no matter what my problem was, and somehow he always made me feel better about it. And besides that, he was my brother. He was supposed to be there for me my whole life, not just the first sixteen years of it. I couldn't stand to think that he was really gone, that I would never see him laugh or smile again, never hug him again.

"Pony?" I looked up to see Mary standing over me, looking concerned. "Ponyboy, what's wrong?" she asked softly, sitting down beside me. I realized I was crying and quickly wiped away the tears, only to have more replace them.

"He's not coming back," I whispered, pulling my knees up to my chest and hugging them.

Mary gave me a confused look. "Who's not coming back?"

"Soda."

"Your brother? Of course he's coming back, Pony. You can't think like that!" She meant well, but she didn't know what she was talking about. I hadn't told anyone at work or school that Soda had gone missing. It would've made it too real.

I shook my head, more tears coming as the truth kept repeating over and over in my mind. "No, he's not. He disappeared a month ago." I tried to hold it back, but a sob broke free, quickly followed by more. As Mary pulled me into her arms, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment, but instead I just leaned into her hug and let her comfort me.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I—I thought they'd find him," I choked out. "I thought he was out there somewhere. But he's not, is he? He's dead."

"Oh Pony, you don't know that," she whispered.

"But it's been a month. He would've shown up by now."

"Maybe not. You never know." I stayed quiet and tried to convince myself that she was right. After a bit, she spoke up again. "I'm done in a few minutes. Why don't you go home, Ponyboy? I'll cover the rest of your shift."

I looked at her, surprised. "You sure?" I asked tentatively. The thought of staying any longer made me cringe. I didn't think I could stand seeing all the customers wander in, happy and living life like there wasn't a God dammed war happening that was tearing families apart.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just let me cash out." She stood up and headed inside. I took another couple of minutes to gather myself together, then followed her. Once I'd punched out I hopped into the truck and pulled onto the road. Darry had the night off, so I'd driven myself. It was another couple of hours before he would be expecting me home, and I didn't think he'd be waiting up anyway. He'd been sick with a cold for most of the week; it was nothing much, but I figured after working all day he'd probably just crash early.

I drove aimlessly for a while, not in the mood to go home yet but not having anywhere else in mind, either. I tried to convince myself that Mary was right, that there was still a possibility that Soda was out there somewhere. I'd spent the last month pushing that belief on Darry and Two-Bit, but the anniversary of Soda's disappearance was starting to shake my faith. If he really was alive somewhere, why hadn't he been found yet? I figured amnesia was a possibility, but his dog tags would solve that problem. The only other idea I could think of was that he was being held captive, but it didn't seem very likely. He wouldn't be any use to the enemy; he didn't know any military secrets, so I doubted they'd bother keeping him alive if they found him.

I sighed and shook my head, trying to block out the depressing thoughts. As I came back to reality, I became instantly more alert as I realized I wasn't in town anymore. I slowed the truck and peered into the darkness, trying to figure out where I'd driven to. The logical part of my brain was telling me to just turn the truck around and retrace my path, but I kept driving, curiosity getting the better of me.

It was another couple of minutes before I finally recognized something. At the end of a driveway stood a statue of two stone angels, instantly cluing me in to where I was—another mile up the road was the barn where Soda had ridden Mickey. I had no idea what had compelled me to drive all the way out here, but I figured I may as well finish the trip.

I drove slowly, trying to spot the right barn in the dark. When I found it, I pulled the truck into the driveway and turned off the engine. It didn't take a very close examination of the barn and nearby house to realize they were abandoned. It looked like the house had been the victim of a nasty fire; from the glare of my headlights I could see that most of the bricks were charred black and the windows were all broken. Half of the barn roof was caved in, but I couldn't tell if it was from fire damage or simply from disrepair.

I killed my headlights and grabbed the flashlight we kept in the truck, then slowly stepped outside. The air was crisp and cold and fallen leaves crackled under my shoes as I walked towards the barn. When I reached the open door, I cautiously shone the beam of my flashlight around, looking for any signs of people. The place looked completely deserted, so I ventured inside. My footsteps echoed eerily in the vacant space; the tackle had all been removed and all that remained was a few stray pieces of hay that had detached from the larger blocks and been left behind.

When I reached the second last stall, the one that had been Mickey's, I gently pushed open the door and stepped inside. I shone the light around, but all that was there was shadows flickering back at me. I was about to leave when something caught my eye. I stepped towards the door and peered closely to the left of it. Near the top, three letters were carved roughly into the wood: S.P.C.

Voices and images floated back to me and in my mind's eye I saw a twelve year old Soda carefully etching the letters as Mickey watched him, oblivious to the meaning.

"_Hurry up, Soda! Dad's coming!"_

"_Go distract him, Pony! I'm almost done. I just need one more minute."_

I'd forgotten about the day, just a week before Mickey had been sold, that Soda had brought a blade with him to the barn so that he could leave his mark. I'd been lookout for him while he'd engraved his initials into his horse's stall, making a claim to Mickey that no one but us would ever recognize.

I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. I threw open the stall door and bolted, not stopping until I'd reached the truck. I placed an arm on the side of it and leaned against it, gasping for air. As the vividness of the memory slowly faded with the distance from the barn, I was able to get my breathing back under control. I looked back at the barn, at the gaping hole in the roof, and before I could stop myself my fist flew out and hit the door of the truck. Pain exploded in my hand as it connected with the metal and I swore. Groaning in defeat, I turned my back to the truck and slowly slid down it, landing with a thud on the ground.

Exhaustion and sorrow flooded through me, replacing the anger I'd felt seconds before. Why did everything have to be gone? First Mickey had been sold, leaving Soda devastated, then Mom and Dad had died, robbing us of the family we should've had. Then Johnny and Dally, then Soda, and now even the fucking barn where he'd been so happy. I wanted to cry, but I felt too exhausted even for that.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I began to realize that it was a bad idea to sit in the middle of nowhere in the cold night air and I forced myself to stand up. Purposefully avoiding looking at the barn again, I opened the door to the truck and started the engine.

I drove slowly, not feeling alert enough to drive faster than the speed limit. When I finally reached home and pulled into the driveway, I leaned against the wheel for a few seconds, trying to find the strength to go inside. The lights were off, indicating that Darry was asleep already. Once I felt capable of moving, I made my way up the driveway and quietly opened the front door. Not wanting to wake my brother, I crept down the hall and carefully changed into my pajamas. I stared at my bed, noting once again how empty it looked without Soda there.

I didn't think I could stand sleeping in it tonight and decided to try the couch, instead. I turned the light off and moved into the hallway, but instead of heading to the living room I found myself at Darry's door. I hesitated for a second, then opened it.

Darry had his back to me, but I could hear his steady breathing. I moved around to the other side of the bed, pulled back the covers, and carefully climbed in. I winced when I saw his eyes open at the movement; I'd been hoping not to wake him.

"Pony?" he mumbled, half asleep. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't tell him I'd given up hope. I wasn't even sure if I had or not, but I sure felt pretty hopeless right then. "Nothin'," I said. "I just—can I sleep here tonight?"

He stared at me for a long minute before answering. "Sure, Pone," he said, throwing an arm around me, just like Soda did when I was cold or scared. For a second I was startled, then I scooted a bit closer. Darry offering physical comfort might be new and strange, but I needed it more than I'd ever admit to anyone.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The smell of something burning woke me up. I lay still for a second, trying to think of what could be causing the smell, but I couldn't think of anything. Briefly, I prayed the place was burning down, but that didn't seem very likely. I heard a heavy shuffling sound and I managed to pry my eyes open to find out what was going on.

The second I did, I screamed and quickly tried to back away from the macabre image of horror in front of me. A charred corpse was kneeling over my face, it's fleshless lips pulled back in a mockery of a smile. "What, you're not happy to see me?" It seemed to be waiting for an answer, but all I could do was stare back in terror. "You haven't forgotten about me already, have you?" it asked.

Shock washed over me as I realized this was the kid who'd been burned alive. I managed a small shake of my head and he chuckled dryly. "Good, cause I sure haven't forgotten about you."

I finally found a tiny fragment of my voice. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry. I tried to stop them…" I trailed off as he sneered at my cheap apology, showing off his burned and decayed teeth.

"If you'd really tried, I wouldn't be here now," he taunted. I opened my mouth to protest, but my voice caught in my throat and all that came out was a strangled moan.

He brought his blackened hand towards my throat and I backed up the last few inches towards the wall. Giving an almost feral laugh, he moved closer, glaring down at me. The insanity of the situation suddenly hit me and I did the only thing I could think of. I screamed.

I kept screaming as his blistered hand reached towards me, but it didn't seem to faze him. Just as I moved my own hands up to protect myself, my cell door burst open. Two guards stormed in and I swear I almost cried in relief. The corpse backed off as they moved over to me. "Please, get me out of here," I begged, not even thinking about the language barrier. "I'll do anything you want, just get me out of here!"

If the guards understood me, they didn't show it. One of them pulled me away from the wall and held me down while the other wrenched my arms behind my back. I felt rope start to go around my wrists and I struggled with everything I had. Despite my efforts, the guard quickly finished immobilizing my hands, then shoved a thick rag into my mouth. When the guards let go of me and moved towards the door, I looked after them desperately, knowing what was going to happen when they left.

Without a backwards glance they slammed the door closed and immediately the corpse was beside me again. I screamed, but it was muffled by the rag. The hand moved towards my throat and I backed up as far as I could, pressing my head into the wall. I struggled with the ropes, trying to free my hands so I could defend myself, but it was useless. My muted screams were cut off as I felt the ruined, peeling hand close around my throat. Bloodshot eyes glared down at me as I gasped for air and I saw a brief flicker of triumph in them before I blacked out.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Please take a minute to review! It might take me a week or two to get the next chapter up, but reviews certainly motivate me.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! I'm sorry this one took longer to get out. Believe me, the reviews helped a lot, I just didn't have a lot of time the past couple weeks. I actually clocked 100km in driving yesterday just going to various jobs. They're desperate for supply teachers and would rather have someone who'll be late than no one at all.

This chapter was incredibly hard to write in places. Except for one tiny, tiny part, everything in the second half is based entirely on personal accounts I've read. I tried to focus on Soda's thoughts and emotions as much as possible. This chapter caused a couple of near emotional meltdowns on my part (not kidding) but I really like how it ended up turning out.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Do you know what's worth fighting for?  
When it's not worth dying for?  
Does it take your breath away and you feel yourself suffocating?  
Does the pain weigh out the pride?  
And you look for a place to hide?

When you're at the end of the road  
And you lost all sense of control  
And your thoughts have taken their toll  
When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul  
Your faith walks on broken glass and the hangover doesn't pass  
Nothing's ever built to last, you're in ruins

~~Green Day—21 Guns

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"What about this one?" I asked, holding up a black leather jacket for Pony to look at. He barely glanced at it before shrugging his shoulders absentmindedly. I groaned and put the jacket back on the rack, then turned to follow Pony, who'd wandered off further into the store. He'd asked me to help him pick out a Christmas present for Darry; it was the first year he had any real money to spend and he'd wanted to get something nice, sort of as a "thank you" for everything Darry had sacrificed for him. The problem was, Christmas was only a few days away and he was barely paying any attention.

"Look, kid," I said, catching up to him at a display of downhill skis, "you've gotta work with me some here. This is supposed to be your present, not mine."

He stared at me for a second before turning back to the skis. "These'll work. Darry likes to ski."

Clearly it was time for more drastic measures. Raising my hand, I roughly cuffed him on the back of the head.

"Ow! What the hell was that for, Two-Bit?" he demanded, turning to glare at me.

"At least it got your attention," I muttered. "Did you even look at the price tag on those skis, kid? You have money to spend this year, but you ain't no Soc." He took a closer look at the price and I saw his face turn a bit red. "And does Superman even need skis? Doesn't he have some already?"

"Yeah, but they're second-hand—"

I cut off Pony's protest quickly. "How often does he ski? Once or twice a year? Shouldn't you get him something that's a little more useful?"

"When'd you become so practical?" Pony scowled.

"Someone's gotta be with the way you two've been acting," I retorted. Pony looked like he wanted to punch me, but I didn't care. "Look, kid, I know you're hurting about Soda and I know how much worse it is with Christmas here, but you've gotta snap out of it."

"What do you know about it?" he practically snarled.

That did it. I grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowded store. He fought to get away, but I had a vice grip on his arm and he couldn't do much without making a scene. With the mood he was in, I was surprised he didn't stoop to that. I quickly got him out the door and pulled him into a nearby alley. I shoved him against the wall and tightly gripped the collar of his jacket.

"What right do you have to say that to me?" I hissed at him and I saw his face whiten a little. I'd never, ever talked to him like this before. He'd seen me angry, but we'd always been on the same side. "You think you and Darry are the only ones who lost someone when Soda disappeared?" I continued, my face inches from his now. "Soda may be your blood, but he was as good as my brother, too. I've known him for fourteen fucking years and there's barely been a day gone by in that time that I haven't seen him, and there hasn't been a day since he left that I haven't thought of him. So don't you dare ask me what I know about it." I glared at him for another couple seconds, then roughly pushed him away from me.

As we stood in tense silence snowflakes started to fall, landing softly around us. Pony glanced up at the sky and I knew what he was thinking; Soda used to love the snow. He said it was like a blanket, covering the world and hiding all the bad in it underneath a magical untainted layer. I sighed and rubbed my face. "C'mon, kid," I said, gesturing to Pony. "We should get going."

Pony nodded mutely and followed, but paused at the edge of the alley. When I gave him a questioning look, he turned his gaze to his feet. "I'm sorry, Two-Bit," he said, somewhat timidly, chancing a quick glance up to see my reaction. "It's just…I miss him. Sometimes I forget I'm not the only one."

I was still angry at the kid, but I also knew how badly he was hurting. The anniversary of his parents' death was coming up, too, and I'm sure that didn't help matters. After making him stand for a minute, looking uncomfortably anxious, I closed the distance between us and slapped him on the back. "There's another store down the street that might be better," I suggested, earning a small thankful smile.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I lay huddled against the wall, my lone blanket pulled tight around me for warmth and comfort. Chu had visited me again, for the first time in I don't know how long. He was the only one I'd seen at all for over two days now. They'd stopped feeding me, and between that and the return of Chu, I had a bad feeling that Vo wouldn't be far behind.

I wanted to go home. More than anything else in the world, I just wanted to go home. I wanted to see my brothers again, to see my friends. I wanted to be safe and to be curled up in my warm bed with Pony lying next to me, not alone on this damp cell floor, freezing cold and scared.

I shivered, and suddenly I couldn't stop. Chills ran through me and I pulled the ratty blanket closer around me. Despite the pain Chu had left behind, I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them.

God, I wanted Darry's arms around me. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine my older brother holding me. I concentrated on how his shirt would feel against my skin, the sound of him breathing next to me. Pony would be there too, and I imagined another set of arms around me, smaller but just as warm.

My eyes snapped open as someone suddenly kicked me. The precious illusion of home shattered and I found myself staring at two guards. I gulped and tried not to think about what was probably coming next.

One of them held a rusty looking razor and he quickly grabbed my head and started roughly shaving off the beard that had grown. My stomach jumped and I thought that maybe, just maybe I would get to take a shower. As soon as the razor had done its job I was forced to my feet and out the door. The dim light in the corridor was brighter than what I was used to and I squinted, looking at the ground to avoid the glare of the light bulbs. The light that came in through my cell window was barely bright enough to read a book, if I'd had one, and that was only during the day. On nights when there was no moon, the blackness had been absolute.

All hope of a shower vanished as the guards led me into a room and I saw Vo waiting. Every muscle in my body suddenly felt like it had turned to lead as I wondered what he wanted. He'd left me alone for so long now—I didn't even have a concept of how many weeks had passed. I tore my gaze away from him and looked around the room. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach as my eyes fixed on the only piece of furniture; against one wall there was a small table carefully laid out with rope and different sized handcuffs. Memories of the first time they'd used ropes rushed back to me and I shivered.

The guards holding me brought me the rest of the way into the room and forced me onto my knees. I stared at Vo and waited for him to speak. I didn't think I could've said a word even if I'd been able to think of anything to say.

I expected questions. I expected more demands for information I didn't have. What he actually wanted never even occurred to me.

"You are a war criminal," he declared resolutely. I stared back at him, baffled. What the hell was he talking about? "You are to apologize for your crimes and the crimes of your country." He nodded to one of the guards who moved to the table and picked up a paper and pen I hadn't noticed.

"You want me to write an apology?" I asked, trying to hold back a laugh. "To you?" He nodded and my contained laugh escaped. The noise sounded foreign. "You seriously want _me_ to apologize to _you_?"

"Will you write a letter of apology?" he asked again.

Fuck that. After everything he'd done, I wasn't giving him shit.

I shook my head and before I knew what was happening the guards were on me, attacking me with everything they had. I tried to block their hits as best I could, but I may as well have been trying to stop a speeding truck from running me over.

When they finally stopped, it was only seconds before I felt the rope wind around my arm and the first knot tighten painfully, cutting into my skin. I closed my eyes tight and tried to stay calm. I didn't want to go through this again, but I couldn't give him what he wanted. I didn't even care about what he was asking me; I'd never wanted anything to do with this war in the first place and I had no problem repenting it, but I couldn't stand the thought of giving in to Vo.

As my elbows were squeezed closer and closer together the pain quickly got worse and I tried to focus on my breathing, but it wasn't easy. The only thing that stopped me from giving in right away was thoughts of Mom and Dad. They'd always taught me to stand up for what I believed in, and I sure as hell believed in giving Vo as much trouble as I could. I knew what he was capable of, so I knew it was impossible to hold out forever, but he was going to have to work for what he wanted.

I heard a clink of metal and I figured I could guess what was coming next. One of the pairs of cuffs I'd seen on the table was forcefully clamped onto my wrists and I had to grit my teeth hard to stop from crying out as they were ratcheted down as tight as they would go.

_I will not give in. I won't give him what he wants._ These words repeated over and over in my head as the lights were turned off and I was left alone, drowning in pain.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The definitive cracking sound of another rib breaking resonated in my ears as a kick from the latest attack landed in my abdomen. Under Vo's orders, the guards had been alternating between physical attacks and the ropes, with the handcuffs getting smaller and tighter each time, slicing the skin of my wrists to ribbons. I knew I was getting close to my limit; I didn't think I'd be able to stand another minute tied up, much less the endless hours of another session.

I dimly felt someone roll me onto my back and I looked blearily up at Vo. "Will you apologize?"

I wanted so badly to give in so the pain would stop, but I couldn't, not yet. "No," I mumbled. It was all I had the strength to say.

White hot agony suddenly erupted in my right leg and I let out what I was sure had to be the very definition of a bloodcurdling scream. Everything started to go blurry, but through the haze I saw one of the guards lift his foot and smash it into my leg. I screamed again and I desperately wished I could rip my own leg off. It had to be less painful than this. I knew it was broken. He must've practically jumped on it in order to break it, but somehow he'd done it.

I kept screaming as the bone was crushed over and over. Now I was ready to give in. Anything was better than this, even apologizing to Vo.

I never had a chance, though. A thick rag was shoved into my mouth, muffling my screams and cutting off any chance I had of surrendering. Another blow came and I couldn't help but think how sick this was—they wanted to cause me as much pain as possible, but they couldn't stand listening to the screams.

Suddenly I felt my shirt being pulled over my head. Despite the pain and exhaustion I started struggling again, looking around wildly for Chu, who I figured had to be behind this. Instead, I saw one of the guards approaching me, holding a fan belt from a car. My eyes widened in realization, but before I could do anything I was flipped onto my stomach and my hands were pulled above my head. The cuffs went back on and a guard stood on my wrists, keeping them in place and stopping me from pulling the rag out.

The first strike from the fan belt came and I screamed. The guard brought the belt down relentlessly, lashing my back until I was a sobbing, bloody mess. I wanted him to stop, but I couldn't talk and I couldn't fight back. I was barely hanging onto reality through the pain and I thought I'd probably slip away altogether if it wasn't for the constant assault on my senses.

_God, please help me. Please._

What right did I have to ask God for anything? I'd hardly ever been to church and I'd practically driven Pony away from it when he'd tried to share it with me.

When I was dizzy with pain, the guard finally stopped and I felt myself being turned onto my back. I groaned from the contact with my torn skin, but I didn't struggle anymore. I couldn't even lift my head, much less try to fight back.

My eyes were closed, but I heard Vo's voice above me. "Will you apologize?" he asked as calmly as ever.

I didn't have to think about my answer. "Yes," I breathed.

The seconds dragged on until I finally heard him speak again. "You haven't been punished enough."

I heard him bark a few orders and I dragged my eyes open in time to see him walk through the door, leaving me alone with the guards.

No. No, no, no. He had to be kidding. I'd surrendered, I'd agreed to his ridiculous terms. He couldn't do this.

But he had.

The guards had free reign with a prisoner and they took full advantage of it, punching and kicking more than I'd ever seen any Soc do. It wasn't long before I passed out, but they were prepared. Each time I lost consciousness they poured salt water on my cuts, causing me to jolt awake. When I'd first been brought to the prison I'd prayed for a miracle. Now I prayed to die.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Reviews are golden…


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! See? They really do motivate me! 48 hours and already another chapter! I promise the next chapter will be up before Christmas, but I'm not sure how soon before.

One thing I forgot to mention at the end of the last chapter—Vo was demanding the apology letter from Soda because these letters were then used as propaganda. Americans admitting the war was wrong went a long way to helping the North Vietnamese cause.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Lost in time on the edge of suffering  
Another taste of the evil I breed  
Will level you completely  
Bring to life everything that you fear  
Live in the dark and the world is threatening

~~Disturbed—Prayer

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket as I walked slowly through the park. It was mild out for December and I'd left my gloves at home, but I'd been outside long enough that the cold was starting to bite at my fingers. Two-Bit had dropped me off a while ago and then had gone to his own house. I'd ended up buying a new record player for Darry; our old player was starting to skip and I knew he was getting frustrated with it but was too stubborn to spend the money on a new one until the old one went up in flames.

After wrapping the gift up I'd decided to take a walk. With school finished for the holidays, Darry at work, and Two-Bit off to do his own thing, there wasn't much else to do. I'd tried reading a little, but I couldn't concentrate. I was feeling bad about my argument with Two-Bit. I knew he wasn't mad anymore, but that didn't do much to stop my guilt. I'd been getting so wrapped up in my own grief that it was hard to remember that other people cared about and missed Soda just as much as I did.

I sighed and flopped onto a nearby bench. Across the park there were a couple of kids playing in the newly fallen snow, making snowballs and then launching them when the other wasn't looking. I vaguely recognized them as a pair of brothers from down the street and I wondered if the war would be over before one of them was drafted and killed.

Shit. I'd been thinking like that a lot lately—that Soda was dead. After three months of no news, it was hard to keep up any hope.

The sound of snow crunching behind me broke me out of my thoughts and I turned around quickly, ready to defend myself. I quickly relaxed when I saw who it was.

"Hey Ponyboy," Evie said quietly, sitting down beside me. In typical greaser girl fashion, her skirt was short and she looked cold despite her winter coat and the relatively nice weather.

"Hi Evie," I returned. Since Steve had left, she'd been talking to me and Darry more than she used to, swapping information with us. I'd grown to like her more; underneath the trashy clothes and heavy makeup, she was a good person. Better than Sandy turned out to be.

"Any news from Steve?" she asked hopefully.

"We got a letter from him last week."

"Have you…?" she left the question unfinished, but I knew what she was asking. We hadn't wanted to tell Steve about Soda in a letter. We'd asked him to phone us, but so far we hadn't heard from him.

"No. He said he didn't know when he'd get a chance to phone."

She nodded and we were silent for another minute before she spoke up hesitantly. "If—if he phones me first, do you want me to tell him?" I glanced sideways at her and saw she was staring at her hands, folded in her lap. I thought about it before finally answering.

"Yeah, that'd be okay," I agreed. I didn't think it mattered that much who Steve heard it from; finding out his best friend was missing and probably dead was going to devastate him no matter what. I heard a small sniffle and I looked over to see her quietly crying.

"He'll come home," I said gently.

Evie let out a small, derisive laugh and I immediately regretted my words. They'd sounded hollow, even to me. After all, Soda didn't come home.

We sat in silence for a long time, taking some small comfort in each other's presence. When the sun started going down, Evie slowly got up and started heading down the path. I caught up and walked with her silently, making sure she got home okay, before turning in the direction of my own house.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Noise. The sound of dozens of voices shouting dragged me out of the blackness I had been enjoying. Next I heard guns, lots of them. I wondered what was going on, but I didn't really care. I was starting to become aware of the pain. The guards had already paid me another visit and every part of my body was in agony.

Some of the shouting got closer and I heard my cell door open. I tried to open my eyes to see who was there, but they wouldn't cooperate. I prayed it wasn't Chu. If it was Vo, maybe he would finally accept my surrender and just let me write the damn confession.

Whoever was there groped at my neck and I shrank back from their touch. I immediately wished I hadn't as pain shot through me at the movement. I felt the person pick me up and I wanted to cry. Couldn't they just leave me alone? Hadn't they had enough fun already? I tried again to open my eyes and let out a frustrated moan when I still couldn't manage it. The pain was taking over and I felt myself slipping away into oblivion again. I didn't fight it.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The sounds of fighting were everywhere. We'd come into the small prison with forty men and, just as we'd been told, we outnumbered the enemy two to one. That helped, but they were still armed, so it was a tough fight. Our Sergeant had sent a few of us to check out the prisoners and see how many we could rescue. As we started opening the cell doors we found some of them empty, but I saw a few of my buddies helping men out. Most of them looked in pretty rough shape.

I opened another door and saw a body lying on the floor. I was sure this guy had to be dead. His bare back was to me and I could see massive red welts running across it. He was covered in dried blood and it looked like every inch of exposed skin was bruised. I hurried over to check his pulse and when I got closer I could see that his face and chest were just as bruised as his back. His skin clung to his bones, exposing his obviously broken ribs. He didn't look like he weighed more than a hundred pounds. His hair was matted together with dirt and blood and the entire room reeked.

I quickly put my fingers to his neck, not expecting to find a pulse, and was shocked when he moved away from my touch. He wasn't only alive, he was conscious. I picked up his light form and ran out of the cell to join the rest of my unit. "Man, ya got a bad one there, Rick." I nodded to my friend who'd spoken. I wanted to get outta there as fast as possible. I wasn't sure this guy would make it if he didn't get help soon.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"I do the lights every year. I'm sick of it," I grumbled. After a long day I was in a less than stellar mood and the thought of winding Christmas lights around the tree till I was dizzy was less than enticing.

"Fine, hand them over." I tossed the jumbled clump of lights over to Pony, who started the long process of untangling them. Neither of us were much in the mood to celebrate this year, but Soda loved Christmas and it felt wrong to ignore it. I couldn't decide if it was more depressing to decorate the house and have to be reminded of his absence or to leave the house bare and dismal.

I decided to head down to the basement to scrounge up the rest of the decorations. If we were going to do this, we might as well put everything up. While I was lugging the last box up the stairs, the phone rang. When I'd put the box down by the tree, Pony handed over the receiver.

"It's for you," he stated.

"Hello?"

"Darrel Curtis?" a gruff voice on the other end asked.

"This is Darrel," I answered, trying to guess what this was about. I knew I'd been distracted lately, but I was sure I'd paid all the bills. It better not be someone from the warehouse asking me to work. I was way too exhausted for that.

"This is Lt. Adams from the Army Induction Office. Your brother's belongings have arrived from Vietnam and are ready to be picked up."

I sat down hard on the closest chair and gripped the phone tight. I vaguely registered Ponyboy watching me and knew I had to say something before he realized something was up. "Okay. I'll be there in the next few days," I managed to get out in what I hoped was a normal voice.

I quickly hung up the phone, but I stayed sitting in the chair. My legs didn't want to support me yet. I couldn't stand the thought of going to get Soda's stuff. I remembered back to the day he'd packed, carefully choosing what he would take with him.

"_Soda?" I asked, gently knocking on the door to my brother's room. He glanced up from the duffel bag on the bed and I could tell he'd been crying. He quickly wiped at his eyes, but it was too late. I walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, putting an arm around him when he joined me. _

"_I don't wanna go, Dare," he whispered. "I'm scared."_

"_I know, little buddy. You know I'd go instead, if I could." I felt him nod and I squeezed his shoulders. I noticed he was holding a picture frame and I tilted it to get a better look. It was a picture of our whole gang, taken sometime before Johnny and Dally had died. Something wet splashed onto the glass and I looked over to find Soda crying again. I leaned my head against his and just held him, not knowing what else to do._

"Darry? Who was on the phone?" I looked up sharply at the sound of Pony's voice. He was looking at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

"Uh—just a guy from work. I lent him some tools and he's done with them." I couldn't tell Pony the truth. After Christmas, I'd show him Soda's things.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Voices woke me up. They were talking quickly and quietly somewhere near my head. I kept still, hoping they wouldn't realize I was awake. Every minute they thought I was asleep was one more minute of temporary relief. Everything was on fire and I prayed I would pass out again. I listened to the guards, hoping to make something out. Suddenly the voices stopped and I heard movement closer to me. I realized with horror that they'd figured out I was awake.

My heart started racing and I tried to open my eyes so I could see what the guards were going to do, but they still wouldn't work. I tried to move away from the sound of the voices, but this just caused more pain. "Easy, son. No one's gonna hurt you. You're safe now," a quiet voice spoke out of the darkness.

I didn't believe him; this was some sort of trick, some new way to torture me. "We had to camp for the night, but we'll get you to a hospital in a couple of hours, okay son?" It started to dawn on me that he was speaking English. He didn't have an accent—he sounded American. I desperately tried to open my eyes and I let out a small whimper when I couldn't. I had to know what was going on and if he was telling me the truth. "Don't try to move. You're in pretty bad shape." I wanted to ask him who he was, but I couldn't summon up the strength to form a coherent sentence. Instead I ended up uttering a small moan.

"How is he, Sir?" I heard a new voice ask. He sounded American, too and I could feel hope rising in me.

The first voice sighed. "Not good. We need to get him to a hospital as soon as it's safe." I felt someone pick up my hand and I clung to it with all the strength I had left. I was going to let myself believe that this was real, that I was really being rescued. I had to believe it or I'd go insane.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I was quietly talking strategy with a couple of the more experienced guys from my unit when I realized the kid was awake; his breathing had become just a little more ragged than it had been. I cut off in midsentence and turned to see how he was doing. Before I'd even tried to touch him he was struggling to get away from me. It wasn't much of a struggle at this point, though. He only managed to move a couple of inches before giving a weak moan and lying still again. "Easy, son," I said gently. "No one's gonna hurt you. You're safe now. We had to camp for the night, but we'll get you to a hospital in a couple of hours, okay son?" He gave a soft cry, almost a whimper, and moved his head towards me. "Don't try to move," I warned him. "You're in pretty bad shape."

Lord, I could only imagine what this kid had been through. It was a small prison and we'd only found five other soldiers. Some of them were pretty beat up, but this boy was by far the worst off. He was filthy, too. It was understandable since he was obviously in no condition to take care of himself. We'd packed light for our mission so no one had extra pants to give him, but Rick had given up his boxers. It wasn't ideal, but it was a hell of a lot more sanitary than doing nothing. We had a few blankets for emergencies and we'd put one under him to keep his back as clean as possible. It was a small wonder that the wounds weren't infected. We'd been able to bandage them, but he needed more than we could do for him.

Rick came over and took a seat next to me. "How is he, sir?" He'd been in my unit a few months and I knew how much he hated to see anyone suffer. He'd been drafted, just like so many others and he fought well, but he'd never join a war voluntarily.

I sighed and looked back at the boy lying next to me. "Not good. We need to get him to a hospital as soon as it's safe."

Rick picked up the kid's hand and I looked at him expectantly, but he gave a small shake of his head. The kid's grip wasn't very strong. I hoped he had enough fight left in him to make it. For now, it seemed to be a struggle for him just to breathe.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: So, here is the major historical inaccuracy I mentioned in chapter 1. To the best of my knowledge, there was never a successful raid on a POW camp in Vietnam. I believe the only POWs released were those who cooperated, at least somewhat, with their captors. And let's face it, Soda wouldn't do that. Now, I could've kept the story 100% historically accurate by having Soda stay in the camp for another four years or so…but I didn't really think anyone would mind the tiny poetic license.

Now…I've rescued Soda…review please?


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you so much for all the reviews last chapter! Here's the next chapter, before Christmas, as promised. :) I'm not sure when I'll get the next chapter out…my sister and brother-in-law are coming up for a few days, so writing time is going to be a bit scarce. But on the other hand, reading time for most people is probably pretty scarce, too. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, I love to hear what you think!

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Through the years  
We all will be together,  
If the Fates allow  
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.  
And have yourself A merry little Christmas now.

~~Judy Garland—Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The first thing I became aware of as I started to wake up was the feel of someone's hand on mine. Thinking it was a guard trying to tie me up, I tried to pull my hand away. When the person held onto it firmly, I tried to move my whole body away. I stopped that attempt instantly; moving made it feel like a knife was being plunged into my chest.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe," a voice said.

Flashes of memory came back to me—someone picking me up; waking up and hearing voices that sounded American; promises of safety.

I also remembered not being able to see. Cautiously, I made an attempt to open my eyes, half afraid they wouldn't open and half afraid of what I would see if they did.

They felt like ten pound weights were sitting on them, but I slowly managed to drag them open. A fuzzy image of a strange man greeted me. Even through my distorted vision it was obvious he was American and a quick glance around the room seemed to confirm that I was in some sort of army hospital. I blinked a few times, trying to bring the picture into sharper focus, but it didn't work.

"Blurry," I mumbled, wincing at the rawness of my throat. I hoped he understood what I meant. I didn't think I had the energy to say more.

"Your face got pretty banged up," he started to explain. "Your eyes were swollen shut. They're still not all the way open. That's probably why everything's blurry." I nodded my head a little. It sounded like it would get better, and that was good enough for the time being.

As the situation sunk in, questions started to run through my mind. "What now?" I asked. Now that I knew I was safe, I wanted them to send me home. They owed me that much.

"You're in rough shape," the guy said. "You've got a lot of broken ribs, plus your leg and some internal injuries. You've gotta stay here another week or two before they can ship you back home."

I groaned and I felt him squeeze my hand in sympathy. I tried to squeeze back, but I felt like I was barely staying awake. "Who…" I let the question trail off, not able to find the energy to finish it.

"My name's Rick," he answered, guessing what I'd been trying to ask. "I was with the unit that found you."

I wanted to know when it was, how much time had passed, but I couldn't seem to get the question out. I fought for another few seconds, then I let my eyes close on the blurry image in front of me.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"Watch it, Randle!" I looked back to see Sheffield glaring at me, his drink spilled all over the floor.

"Shit, sorry man," I apologized, heading over to him. "I didn't even realize I'd knocked into ya. Another beer," I said to the girl behind the bar, handing her some money.

"Hey, it's no biggie," Sheffield laughed, his spilled beer forgotten now that he had another one.

It was early, but the bar was already noisy and crowded with soldiers. We were visiting a base camp for Christmas and most of the guys were taking full advantage of the access to alcohol. It didn't matter that most of us were under twenty-one; no one cared about ages over here.

The few girls that were at the bar were nurses and most of them were already hooked up with guys, either for the night or long-term. I had Evie at home, anyway, and I wasn't planning on screwing things up. I got a drink for myself and headed over to a corner where an arm wrestling match was going on. Sheffield was already there, cheering on Jacobs. "C'mon, Dave! I got two bucks on ya!" I rolled my eyes. He was obviously smashed outta his mind. By the end of the night, all his money would be gone on either booze or gambling. It was a hell of a way to celebrate the holiday.

As I watched Jacobs wrestle against Moore, I thought it seemed like a pretty even match; definitely not one I'd put money on. Moore started to push Jacobs' arm closer and closer to the table until he finally smashed it down with a loud thud. There were cheers and groans from all the guys who'd had money riding on the match, but no one was louder than Sheffield. He swore and stumbled, catching himself on a chair. He really should've been cut off, but that wasn't gonna happen here.

The next match was getting organized and I turned away to see what other action I could scrounge up for the night. If I was back home I'd have been at the Curtis', but I wasn't and I had every intention of forgetting it.

I was looking around the bar, hoping to find something to distract me, when a blinding pain suddenly shot through my left calf. "Fuck!" I yelled, collapsing onto the ground. I grabbed my leg and pulled my hand away to find it covered in blood. I looked around and saw a shocked Sheffield standing nearby, hands in the air, his gun on the floor at his feet. "Dammit, Sheffield!" I shouted. "I bought you another drink!"

"Man, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, stumbling over beside me. "I don't know what happened. Moore said he'd give me the two bucks back if I could twirl my gun around, like in the movies. I've done it before, but…I dunno. It went off this time."

"Did you put the safety on first?" I glared at him, holding onto my leg to try and stop the bleeding.

Realization dawned on his face. "Shit, the safety…"

I groaned. I couldn't believe I'd made it through five months of the war and now I was shot in a bar by a drunken moron. I was thankful that at least I was at a camp with a hospital. A couple guys came over and checked out my leg, agreeing it didn't look too bad. They helped me across the road to the hospital, Sheffield following behind muttering apologies. "Just get lost, Sheffield," I grumbled. "You've done enough already." He held back and I was glad to see the door close in his face.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I glowered at the plain, basic brick building that served as the Army Induction Office. I'd love to torch the place, but it wouldn't do any good. It wouldn't change the past. Through the window, I could see a small Christmas tree in the corner of the main room, twinkling innocently in the spirit of the season. Our own tree was set up at home, a measly two presents under it, ready for tomorrow morning.

Walking into the building, I went straight to the first person I saw. "I'm here to pick up Sodapop Curtis' things."

The man behind the counter gave me an annoyed look and I thought I might snap if he made a comment about Soda's name. I was in anything but a joking mood, particularly where the army was concerned. I was grateful when he simply went into a back room, returning a few minutes later with a small box. "Here you are, sir. Sodapop Curtis' effects," he stated. I quickly signed the form he gave me and took the box from him, leaving without a thank you.

I gripped the steering wheel tightly as I drove home and concentrated harder than was necessary on the traffic and falling snow, trying not to think about the box sitting on the seat next to me. I knew every item that was in that box, right down to the picture frames I'd helped Soda pack. When I got home, I quickly checked the house for Ponyboy, who was supposed to be out with Two-Bit getting a dessert for tonight's Christmas dinner at the Mathews'. Finding the house empty, I took the box to my room and gently placed it on my bed.

For a long time, I just sat and stared at it. I couldn't decide if I wanted to open it or shut it away in a closet. Finally, I peeled away the boxing tape and carefully started taking items out. I placed Soda's clothes to the side, leaving them for later. There wasn't much left after that; fighting in the jungle didn't allow a lot of room for personal items.

I pulled out the letters we'd sent to him, rereading each one as I did. They looked like they'd been handled a lot already and I smiled a little as I pictured him reading them. I got to the last letter and my hands started shaking; it wasn't from me or Pony or even Two-Bit. It was a letter in Soda's writing. The date said September 22nd—right at the time when he disappeared. As I started to read the letter, I could feel tears coming and I couldn't stop them.

_Dear Darry and Pony,_

_There's nothing much new here. We're going on some sort of mission tomorrow, but I don't know what yet. I miss you guys. Everyone here is great, but they're not you. Glad to hear school's going good, Pone. I know you'll work hard. Darry, you better __stop__ working so hard. I'm not there to give you back rubs no more, so you gotta be more careful._

_I love you._

_Soda_

Those were his last words to us. He never got a chance to mail the letter; it had sat with his stuff all this time. I looked into the box and saw the two pictures he'd taken with him. I pulled out the top one, a picture of just the three of us with Mom and Dad. Soda was smiling brightly at the camera, his arms wrapped around Mom. He was fifteen when it was taken, blissfully unaware that he would never make it past his teen years.

I threw the picture away from me, hearing the glass shatter as the frame hit the wall. How could life be so unfair and take almost everyone I loved? How could someone as sweet and caring as Sodapop be gone?

I slid onto the floor, still carefully holding Soda's last letter. I would've given anything in the world for one last back rub from him.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"C'mon, Two-Bit! Just pick one already," I grumbled. He'd been trying to choose which dessert to buy for more than ten minutes now. I didn't think it was humanly possible to take so long on such a small decision, but Two-Bit had once again proven me wrong.

"Will you shut it already, kid? I'm trying to concentrate. The dessert is the final part of the dinner, so it's the thing people remember the most. It has to be perfect." He glared at me and then went back to examining the picked over shelf in front of us.

I rolled my eyes but I shut up. The sooner he chose one the sooner we could get out of there. If I had to listen to one more Christmas song I'd scream. When he finally chose an apple pie, I quickly led the way to the long checkout lines. The last minute Christmas Eve shoppers were snaked around each other and into the aisles and I groaned. I didn't even want to have a big dinner, but I felt guilty saying no to Two-Bit's mom. She'd always been so nice to us and since Soda had disappeared, pre-cooked dinners had mysteriously appeared in our kitchen every few days.

Two-Bit talked ceaselessly in my ear, but I could still hear the Christmas songs over him. As I listened to Judy Garland go on about fate allowing us to be together, I started shifting restlessly from foot to foot. I couldn't stay there.

"I'll meet you outside, Two-Bit," I said and was pushing my way through the crowd before he had a chance to answer. As soon as I got outside I pulled out my pack of smokes. I could see the sun setting behind the buildings across the street and I glared at it. I hadn't found a sunset pretty in months. They all seemed to be dull and tarnished now.

By the time Two-Bit came out I'd finished my second smoke and was pacing up and down. The sooner this night was over with the better. For once he was quiet on the drive home, picking up on my mood. I knew his chipper attitude was mostly for my sake. After our argument a couple weeks ago, I'd learned not to make assumptions about his feelings. He'd gotten good at false cheerfulness over the years and sometimes it was easy to forget that it wasn't always real.

"Looks like Darry's home," he said as he pulled into our driveway. I saw Darry's bedroom light on and figured he was probably getting ready. Two-Bit came into the house with me and parked himself on the couch to wait while I headed down the hall to change into something a bit nicer. I didn't have much in the way of nice things, but I figured I could do better than the torn jeans I'd worn all day.

I stopped at my bedroom door and cocked my head to the side, listening. There was a funny sound coming from Darry's room, but I couldn't place it. Walking the few more steps to his door, I pushed it open and froze in the doorway.

Sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, was Darry. It only took a second to figure out that the noise I'd heard was crying. I had almost never in my life seen Darry cry and I was at a complete loss what to do. His head shot up at my presence and at the look of utter devastation on his face, I suddenly realized he wasn't Superman. It was obvious he'd been miserable since Soda had disappeared, but this was the first time I'd really seen him grieving.

"Dare?" I said softly, hovering in the doorway, unsure if I should go in or leave him alone.

He quickly rubbed his eyes but it didn't make much difference anymore. He seemed to realize this and stopped bothering. Instead, he held out a piece of paper to me. I crept closer and cautiously took it from his hand.

As I read Soda's letter, I felt my knees buckle under me and I crashed to the ground next to Darry. After reading it over twice, I tore my eyes away from it and looked imploringly at my older brother for an explanation.

"I picked up his things today," he said. I looked past him onto his bed and saw an open box, Soda's clothes lying next to it.

"That's who really called the other day, isn't it?" I asked. "It wasn't a guy from work."

He nodded and put his head in his hands. "I didn't want you to see any of this till after Christmas," he whispered.

I shook my head. "It's not much of a Christmas, anyway. It wouldn't've made much difference."

Down the hall we heard a knock on the door and then the sound of Two-Bit answering it. Knowing he would take care of whoever was there, we didn't bother getting up. It was probably carol singers. A minute later though, we heard footsteps coming down the hall and Two-Bit appeared in the doorway.

"You guys might want to come out here," he said. Something in his voice sounded off, but he left without more explanation.

"C'mon, let's see what's up." Darry stood up and offered his hand to me. When we got to the living room, we found Two-Bit leaning against the wall looking intently at two men who were sitting awkwardly on the couch. At the sight of them, I quickly sat in the nearest chair available. They were dressed head to foot in army uniforms.

This didn't make sense. They'd already told us Soda was gone and his stuff was back. If they wanted to draft Darry, they'd have sent a letter like they did for Soda. Even if there was some sort of news about Steve, they wouldn't come to our house. That only left one possible explanation.

They'd found Soda.

Darry was standing next to me and from the look on his face, he'd come to the same conclusion. The question was, had they found him alive, or were they shipping a body home to us?

"Mr. Curtis?" one of them asked. Darry nodded and the guy continued. "I'm Lt. Walsh. We have news about your brother." I felt Darry take hold of my hand and I held on tight, praying for good news. "Your brother has been found alive."

Against the wall, Two-Bit let out a whoop of joy and I grinned at him. Darry suddenly squeezed my hand so tight I thought he might break something, but I didn't care. I stood up and threw my free arm around him and felt him do the same to me. I thought about pinching myself but then thought better of it. If this was a dream, I didn't want to wake up.

When Darry pulled away, he turned to Lt. Walsh. "What happened?" he asked. I could tell he was trying hard to keep his voice steady, but I wasn't sure if it was from nerves or anger. If the army didn't have a damn good reason for putting us through this, these guys had better run for their lives.

"He was found when one of our units raided a Viet Cong prison camp," Walsh explained. I flinched. That didn't sound good. "He's been taken to a hospital and he'll be coming home once he's stable, probably in a week or so."

"Stable?" I asked. "What—why is he _un_stable?"

Walsh shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't have more information for you. You'll be contacted once his arrival date is confirmed." His partner shifted uncomfortably and stood to go, Walsh following suit. "I'm very sorry for this," he said, looking genuinely apologetic. "Just remember, he's coming home now."

I stared after them incredulously as they walked out the front door. How can they just tell us that Soda's alive and not have anymore information? What the hell did they mean by "when he's stable?" What was wrong with him?

Across the room, Two-Bit whistled and slid down the wall to the floor. "Well, that was a helluva bomb to drop," he said, looking stunned.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I hobbled around on my crutches, testing my leg out. It still throbbed, but it was manageable with the pain meds the docs had given me. They'd had to do surgery, which made me even less impressed with Sheffield. One of the guys who'd helped me the night before, Dr. Adams, came walking over to me.

"Morning, Randle," he said. "How's the leg feeling?"

"About as good as you'd expect," I muttered. I was still pissed about the whole situation.

"Well, I've got some good news and some bad news for you," he announced. "Which do you want first?"

I had a seat on the hospital bed and leaned the crutches against it. "Gimmie the bad news," I said.

"The bullet tore through the muscle in your calf. That's why we had to do the surgery. It'll heal, but you won't be walking on your own for a while."

I gaped at him. "We're in the middle of a war zone and I can't walk? What the hell am I supposed to do, stare the enemy down?"

"That brings me to the good news," he continued, smiling. "You're going home."

I stared at him again, this time in disbelief rather than annoyance. "Can you say that again, doc?" I was sure I'd heard him wrong.

"You're going home, Randle. There's a transport shipping out of here in a couple days, and you'll be on it. Merry Christmas." I could feel a grin spreading over my face. I was going home. I didn't even care anymore that I'd been shot in a bar by a wasted show-off. I was getting out of this God forsaken country!

"Congratulations," a voice spoke up a few beds down.

The doctor walked away and I looked up to find a guy not much older than me talking. He was sitting next to a patient, holding his hand. "Thanks," I grinned, picking up my crutches again and making my way over to him. "Feels damn good."

"I'll bet," he agreed. "My name's Rick."

"Steve," I answered. I took a closer look at the guy he was with and gave a low whistle. "Wow, what happened to your friend?" The guy was bruised and bandaged everywhere and was hooked up to a small army of machines. He looked like he'd been practically starved to death, too.

Rick glanced at him sadly. "He's not my friend. I found him when my unit raided a prison camp."

"Is he gonna make it?" I asked. It didn't look too hopeful from what I could see.

"Yeah, he is. I know he looks bad, but the doctors said aside from some scarring, he should make a full recovery with time. They're shipping him home next week. I've gotta leave tonight, though," he added.

"What's his name?" I asked. If this guy was all alone, I figured I could at least keep an eye on him till I left. He looked like he'd been through a lot.

"Curtis."

Instantly I felt all the blood drain from my face. There was no way. It had to be a coincidence. It was a common last name. For that matter, maybe Curtis was the guy's first name.

Rick looked a bit uncomfortable by my silence and tried to lighten the mood. "I'll bet he survived cause of first his name. Sodapop. He must've been beat up so many times as a kid."

So it really was Soda. I wanted to throw up, knowing that I hadn't even been sure. Instead, stunned, I just shook my head at Rick's comment. "No, he wasn't beat up. But he sure dealt out a helluva lot of punches to the people who tried."

My words sunk in and Rick gaped at me. "You know this guy?"

Still in shock, I nodded numbly. "Yeah, he's my best friend."


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you once again for all the reviews! I'm going to try to keep updating as much as I can, but school (aka work) is starting again Monday, so time will be limited. It'll depend a lot on weather—bad weather means lots of tutoring cancelations.

I made a small tweak to the last chapter. I just took out the part where Steve is looking for a girl when he's at the bar—I kind of forgot about Evie when I wrote that, and I just don't see Steve as a cheater.

I have to say, the song I used for this chapter is bordering on corny, which is something I never thought I'd say about this band, but I love it anyway and it's completely perfect for Steve and Soda.

Quick note—if I've done the math right, Christmas Day in 1968 would've been a Thursday. I'm assuming the Army's office in Tulsa would be closed boxing day.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

And if you're feeling all alone,

Remember good times or remember home

And if you question all that you see,

Remember that you always got a friend in me

~~Hedley—Friends

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"_I'm telling you, Betty, I've had enough."_

_Mom's voice floated down the hall to my room where I was finishing my homework. I crept to the door and quietly opened it so I could hear what she was saying better. It sounded serious, and in our house, serious was never a good thing._

"_I'll be at your place tomorrow. The train gets in at 6:20…Yes, I'm sure. Thirteen years is long enough."_

_Train? Betty? Aunt Betty? But she lived all the way in San Diego…_

_Then it hit me and I staggered back to my bed. Mom was leaving Dad. She was going to just pick up and move to California with her sister. _

_Tomorrow night I'd be sleeping in a different house, a different city. I'd never see my friends again. I'd never see Soda again._

_I quickly closed my door and threw open my window, practice allowing me to climb out of it in complete silence. I snuck along the fence, careful to keep myself out of the line of sight of the living room window, and broke into a run as soon as I was clear._

_I raced to Soda's house and threw open the door. Mrs. Curtis was busy dusting furniture and she looked up, startled. "Steve? What's wrong?" she asked. Her concern just made me feel worse. I liked her better than my own mother, and even more so now that Mom was planning to rip me away from everything I knew._

"_Where's Soda?" I asked, ignoring her question. I didn't want to tell her what had happened. If I told her, I'd have to say goodbye and I didn't want to deal with that right then._

"_Steve?" I looked past Mrs. Curtis and saw my best friend standing at the end of the hallway._

"_Soda, I've gotta talk to ya." He threw me a confused look, but followed me out the front door and to the park. I didn't say a word and he didn't ask any questions till we got there._

_When I finally sat down on an out of the way bench, Soda turned to me. "Steve, what's going on?"_

"_I'm moving." The statement was blunt and Soda sat down heavily beside me._

_There was silence for a minute, both of us staring at our feet, before he spoke up quietly. "When?"_

"_Tomorrow. I overheard Mom talking to her sister in San Diego."_

"_You're moving to California?!" Soda cried. I nodded miserably. "But that's hundreds of miles away! We'll never see each other!"_

"_I know," I said flatly. I couldn't do much about it, though. I was twelve years old and had exactly $1.12 stashed in an old sock under my mattress. Even if I decided to run away, I didn't think that would last me too long._

"_Do you have a blade?" Soda suddenly asked. His mother would kill him if he ever carried one, so he always relied on mine. I'd started carrying a blade a couple months back, though it was mostly just for show. So far I hadn't needed it for anything defensive._

_I took the blade out of my back pocket and handed it over to Soda, watching him curiously as he flicked it open. Without warning, he took the point and sliced it across his right palm. "Soda, what the hell are you doing?" I yelled, snatching it back from him before he could do any more damage to himself._

"_Cut your palm, too," he instructed, holding his bleeding hand out in front of him._

"_What? Why?"_

"_Just do it, Steve."_

_I looked at him doubtfully, but took the now crimson colored blade and brought it across my own palm. I winced a little, but ignored the pain and turned back to Soda. "You mind telling me what you're planning here?" I demanded._

"_Hold out your hand," he said. I obeyed and he grabbed it firmly in his. Our blood mixed together and I saw a few drops fall onto the bench. "We're brothers now. Even if you're in California."_

_Soda grinned at me and I smiled back. Glory, I was gonna miss him._

I lightly ran my fingers over the scar on Soda's right palm. His dog tags said Sodapop Curtis, but his face was so battered that I'd had to look at his hand to be sure. Even seven years later, the mark was there. The day was still crystal clear in my memory. I'd slept horribly that night, thinking about what was going to happen. My mom hadn't said anything to me the next morning, so I'd gone to school like normal, figuring she'd pick me up sometime in the day. I'd spent all day picturing the scene: being called down to the office; looking at Soda, both of us knowing what it meant; Mom waiting for me with a suitcase, ready to go. None of that happened, though. When I'd gotten home from school, the house was empty.

I'd waited, expecting her to show up any minute to take me away, but she never came. I was still waiting at 2:30 when Dad came home. Soda had practically tackled me when I showed up at school the next day and I'd held on to his enthusiasm, letting it get me through those first few days. I'd spent more time than ever at the Curtis house after that. Soda was more than my best friend and I liked to think that some of his blood from that day was still running through my veins.

While I waited for Soda to come around, a nurse came by with medical supplies. She smiled at me as she set her things up on a table and I gave her a small smile back. "Hi," she said softly. "I'm Maggie. Are you staying with him, now?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'll be here till he goes home."

She examined my injured leg skeptically. "I don't think you'll be here as long as him."

"I will if I have anything to say about it," I vowed.

She tilted her head a little, but didn't push the matter. Instead, she started to unwrap the bandages around one of Soda's wrists. As she carefully cleaned the wound, I got a good look at the damage and I gulped. Chunks of skin had been ripped away all around his wrist and in one place I saw the unmistakable white glint of bone. It had obviously been done by some sort of restraints and horrible, bloody images started running through my mind.

I would've felt better if it had only been his wrists, but the rest of him looked just as bad. Deep cuts ran all along his forearms, the red of the slowly healing wounds blending with the black, blue, and purple of the bruises to form a grisly rainbow. His face was covered with bruises, too, and his lips were cracked and bloody. I'd had to study him carefully to start to recognize his features. His hair had grown out and looked like it was almost as long as it had been back home. It was about the only redeeming thing about his appearance.

What bothered me the most was his weight. Every single rib was visible, or at least the ones that weren't covered in bandages, and his stomach was sunken, making his ribs protrude even more. My thumb and forefinger could more than meet around his arms and his legs looked almost as thin. It was hard to imagine that he'd ever been muscular. IVs dripped nutrients into his arm, but it would take time for them to make a difference. His right leg was wrapped in a cast and was slightly elevated. The doctors said it would be a while before he'd be walking on it again. It made my crutches seem trivial.

As Maggie finished up with Soda's wrists, a doctor from across the room called her over. She gave me a quick smile and moved away. I turned back to my best friend and waited as patiently as I could, holding his hand and talking quietly to him, letting him know he wasn't alone. It seemed like forever passed before his hand finally moved in mine. I looked up at his face and found his eyes half open, staring back at me with disbelief. "Steve?" His voice was hoarse, but it was his alright.

"Yeah, it's me, buddy." I grinned, relief washing over me. Rick had told me Soda had woken up already, but it was different seeing it for myself.

"What…how…?"

I laughed at his surprise. It wasn't everyday you saw someone you know over here, much less family. "Glad to see you too, Soda," I said, squeezing his hand.

"I can't believe you're here." Even with the swelling, the relief on his face was obvious.

"I know," I agreed. "What are the odds, right? But the best part is, I'm staying with you, all the way to Tulsa." I could see the confusion in his eyes and I held up my crutches for him to see. "I ain't much good to them right now."

"What happened?" I saw concern enter his eyes now and I laughed again.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'll tell you the story when you're feeling better. I don't want you to bust one of those ribs laughing," I joked, trying to reassure him my injury was no big deal.

He gave me a small smile. "God, it's good to see you, Steve."

"It sure is. By the way, Merry Christmas, buddy."

"What?" He looked at me, seemingly unsure if he'd heard me right, and I faltered.

"It's December 25th, Soda," I said as gently as I could. "You didn't know?" It was such a stupid question since the answer was so obvious, but I couldn't help it.

He squeezed his eyes closed and I heard him draw in a shaky breath. "Oh, God," he whispered.

I was dreading the answer to my next question, but I had to know. "How long?"

His voice was so quiet I barely heard his answer. "Three months."

"Oh my God," I breathed. My mind suddenly felt like it was on standstill. I'd wondered why I wasn't getting any letters from him, but I'd just figured they'd gotten lost in the system and they'd show up later. I hadn't been able to let myself think anything else.

"I'd thought maybe two months at the most…" he trailed off and I squeezed his hand.

Suddenly, he started struggling to sit up, but quickly fell back against the bed, eyes squeezed tight and his face contorted in pain.

I jumped to my feet, biting my lip hard as I accidently put pressure on my injured leg, and put both my hands on his shoulders. From his reaction, I didn't think he'd try moving again, but I wanted to be sure and I had no idea what had set him off in the first place.

"Darry…Pony," he hissed through gritted teeth, and the pieces clicked.

"They've been contacted already, Soda," I told him, pulling back. I eased myself onto the side of the bed, ready to stop him if he tried moving again. He opened his eyes and I could see them shining in pain. I'd broken a couple of ribs before and I couldn't imagine what he was feeling now.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's what Rick told me. And I've got some phone time reserved later today, so I'll make sure they know." I'd originally planned to call Evie, but given the circumstances, I'd changed my mind.

Soda studied me and then finally seemed to relax. His eyes drifted closed and he slowly fell asleep, reassured that his brothers would know he was okay. I moved back to the chair and leaned back, keeping my hold on his hand. I was starting to doze off myself when Maggie came back. "How's he doing?" she asked. "I saw you two talking."

"Okay, I guess," I answered, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"I need to change the bandages on his back," she told me. "Did you want to wake him up first? I don't want to scare him."

I nodded and gently shook Soda's shoulder. "Soda? You gotta wake up buddy." After a couple minutes of coaxing, he groggily opened his eyes. "The nurse has to work on your back, okay Soda?"

He eyed her warily and she smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. "It'll be okay. It'll hurt for a few minutes while I clean it, but it'll be over fast."

He nodded and I carefully helped him shift onto his side, trying to ignore how thin and fragile he seemed under my touch. As Maggie slowly removed the bandages, I had to swallow the urge to vomit for the second time that day. His back looked like it had been shredded to bits. Long, angry welts ran right from his shoulders to his waist, crisscrossing and covering every inch of skin that wasn't bruised. Some of the deeper gashes were still bleeding and I saw Soda wince as Maggie dabbed them, trying to clean them and prevent infection.

"Soda, what did they do?" I couldn't help think the doctors should have positioned him on his stomach, but then I realized that lying on broken ribs wouldn't be any better.

He didn't meet my eyes, just kept staring straight ahead. "Fan belt," he whispered. I flinched as I pictured the long, notched cable. I understood now how it had done so much damage.

I heard a gasp as Maggie worked on a particularly deep cut, and the grip on my hand tightened. "It'll feel better soon," she reassured.

"How soon?" Soda groaned, and I exchanged a concerned look with Maggie.

"Soda, you wanna know what happened to my leg?" I asked. He managed a nod, and I began the embarrassing story. As I talked, he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, but I could tell he was listening. Maggie finished with the last of the bandages, but I kept talking. When I was done, Soda finally looked at me.

"You were shot in a bar?" His eyes held just a bit of humor in them, and I smiled in relief.

"Yeah. Pathetic, isn't it?"

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I took a sip of my coffee while I watched Pony sketch. He was curled up on the couch with the packet of art supplies I'd gotten him for Christmas open on the coffee table beside him, trying to perfectly capture our tree on paper. His drawing wasn't something I normally encouraged much, though Lord knows I should with his talent, but I'd been desperate to cheer him up some. In the end, it hadn't mattered. Now that we knew Soda had been found, Pony was happier than he'd been in months. We both were.

I was trying to keep my excitement in check, though, and I could tell that Ponyboy and Two-Bit were, too. Soda was alive, but we had no idea what kind of condition he was in. If he'd been held in a prison camp this whole time, there was no telling how hurt he was. I was planning to contact the Army first thing Saturday morning to see if I could find out more information, or at least get a date for when he was coming home.

Soda was coming home. I couldn't quite wrap my mind around that. As much as Pony had tried to convince us that Soda was alive, especially in the first few weeks after his disappearance, I'd never let myself fully believe it. I'd been too scared of getting hurt later.

As I took another sip of coffee, I made myself comfortable in my recliner and contented myself with watching my youngest brother, secure in the knowledge that he wasn't my only brother anymore. An Elvis record played in the background, courtesy of Pony's gift to me. I'd admonished him for spending so much money, but he'd just held up the art supplies and told me I didn't have much right to talk.

On the table beside me, the phone rang and I absentmindedly picked it up. "Hello?"

"Darry? That you?"

I almost dropped the phone. "Steve?" I asked in disbelief. Pony immediately jerked his head up and I saw the surprise on his face. He placed his sketchbook to the side and crossed the small space between us, carefully perching on the arm of my chair and leaning in close so he could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Yeah, it's me," Steve said on the other end.

I grinned and shook my head. "Glory, it's good to hear from you."

I heard him chuckle. "Same here, Superman. I'll be seeing ya soon, too," he said, and even with the distance I could clearly hear the excitement in his voice.

"You're coming home?" I exchanged a surprised look with Pony. Steve's draft time wasn't up yet, which meant something must've happened.

"Yeah. Umm, it's a long story," he said, sounding a bit awkward, but continued before I had a chance to ask any more questions. "Listen, Darry, have you heard anything about Sodapop?"

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. It was a hell of a good thing Steve hadn't called the day before. "Yeah Steve, we have." I paused, trying to figure out what I should say. I decided to start with the good news first. "He's coming home, too." Before I could come up with anything else, he interrupted me.

"Good, they told you." He was obviously relieved, but it sounded like he already knew and I wasn't sure how. I spared a quick, confused glance at Pony before turning my attention back to the phone.

"What are you talking about, Steve? What do you know about Soda?"

There were a few seconds of silence that seemed to stretch on for hours. Finally, Steve's voice floated through the line. "I'm with him now, Darry. I'm in the same hospital as him."

Pony suddenly grabbed my arm in a vice grip and I tightened my own hold on the receiver. "You're with Soda?" I choked out. "Can—can I talk to him?"

"I'm not with him this _second_. I had to go to a different building to use the phone."

"Oh. Right, that makes sense," I said, shaking my head in an effort to clear it. "How is he?"

Steve sighed and I felt Pony's grip tighten. "Darry, I've gotta be honest. I didn't recognize him at first."

All I could do was sit, stunned at Steve's revelation. It was Ponyboy who managed to speak up. "Is he gonna be okay? When's he coming home?"

"Pony? You're there, too?" I could hear the surprise in Steve's voice, and something else I couldn't quite pin down. "Yeah, the doctors here say he's gonna be fine, in time. He looks real bad, but he's awake and talking. We're coming home in a week or two—I don't have a date yet." There was a pause while we digested this. "Look, I'm outta time, Darry," he sighed.

"Right. Umm, can you keep us posted, Steve?" I asked. My brain was frozen, making it almost impossible to get my thoughts into words.

"Yeah, of course," came the immediate reply.

"And Steve? Tell him we miss him."

"I will." There was a click, and the line went dead.

"Darry, Steve's known Soda since they were five. How could he not have recognized him?" I shook my head at Pony's question.

"I don't know, kiddo. I don't know."


	10. Chapter 10

I am so, so sorry I haven't updated in so long! I've been really busy and just plain tired (and a little nauseous today—saw Avatar in 3D, which was amazing, but didn't agree with my stomach too well). My computer also crashed just after I posted the last chapter, which didn't help matters. Thankfully, I had everything for this story backed up!

On the plus side, working in schools has its advantages. I went into one of my regular supply classes last week and they were just cleaning up from a book sale fundraiser and I managed to find a copy of The Outsiders with the movie cover. :) I've been looking in every class I go into and I swear I literally grabbed it out of someone's hand while they were trying to pack it away.

So, this chapter turned out a little different than I'd planned. Originally, Soda and Steve were supposed to make it home this chapter, but a few things turned out longer than I expected. Next chapter should have the reunion.

I will try very, very hard not to be so long updating again.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I am here still waiting, though I still have my doubts

I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out.

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing,

With a broken heart that's still beating

~~Lifehouse—Broken

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Someone was touching me, jarring me out of sleep. I instantly tensed. I'd woken up enough to remember that I was safe, but my nerves were frayed and all the poking and prodding the hospital staff kept doing was starting to get to me.

"Easy, Soda. It's okay." I felt a light pressure on my hand and opened my eyes to find Steve next to me. Waking up the day before to find him beside had been incredible. I couldn't even begin to understand how he'd gotten hurt exactly when I'd been brought here, but I wasn't questioning it. He'd hardly left my side since, which I was beyond grateful for. I didn't think I could've handled all the hospital exams without him. Every time someone touched me, all I could feel was Chu's hands pinning me down.

I hadn't told Steve about Chu, or almost anything else for that matter. I'd felt him flinch when I'd told him about the fan belt. I really didn't want him to know the rest. I just wanted to forget it all, to pretend it hadn't happened, but it was impossible. Every time I moved, every time someone touched me, every time I closed my eyes I was brutally reminded of it.

"When can we go home, Steve?" I asked, trying to ignore the doctor who was still prodding at my chest. I knew I sounded pathetic, but I was just so desperate to get out of this Godforsaken place.

Steve shrugged and turned to the doctor. "Doc?"

The man studied me for a minute before answering. "Likely not for another seven to ten days," he said. I groaned and closed my eyes. That's what Rick had figured, but I'd been hoping it had changed. "Travelling is very stressful on the body and you're still in serious condition. Even aside from your injuries, you were severely malnourished and dehydrated. You need some time to recover first."

"I can recover at home," I insisted. I just wanted to see Darry and Pony again. The doctor ignored my plea and moved on to his next patient.

"This'll give you more of a chance to heal before Superman and the kid see you," Steve suggested, trying to find a bright side.

I studied his face and for the first time asked one of the questions that had been bugging me. "Is it really that bad?" I was sure I already knew the answer. I wasn't stupid—I knew how many times the guards had hit me—but it wasn't like Steve or my brothers hadn't seen bruises before.

He looked at his hands and nodded. "Yeah, it is," he whispered.

I wished I hadn't asked the question. I took a long, deep breath to try to steady myself, but the movement irritated my ribs and I ended up coughing. Carefully, Steve helped me sit up, placing himself partly behind me for support, and handed me a glass of water. When I'd taken a few sips, I rested the glass in my lap. "Thanks Steve," I said quietly. I leaned against him, too sore and tired to stay sitting up under my own power.

"You should drink more," he advised. I nodded and started to bring the glass back to my lips, but it abruptly started shaking. I felt my grip on it loosening and I quickly brought my other hand up to steady it. "Soda…?" Steve questioned. I swallowed hard. I knew what was happening—it was some sort of after effects of the ropes the guards had used. It was less severe than the first time, when my arms had been completely useless, but I was sure the cause was the same. I didn't want to tell Steve, though. I knew the marks on my arms spoke for themselves, but I didn't want to go into details.

Quickly, I took another drink and handed the glass back to Steve. My hands felt steadier and I managed to pass it over with one hand. Steve remained silent and when he'd helped me lie back down I closed my eyes and pretended to fall asleep. I hoped he would assume the shaking had been a result of the coughing fit I'd had. I must have dozed off for real cause the next thing I knew I heard Steve talking to someone.

"Okay, I'm coming." I felt a brief squeeze on my hand before he let go and stood up.

I quickly opened my eyes to see him picking up his crutches, which had been leaning against the wall. "Steve?" I knew he couldn't stay with me twenty-four hours a day, but I didn't like it when he left. He was the one familiar thing in this entire place.

"Hey, you're awake," he said, smiling down at me.

My gaze flickered between him and the officer waiting for him. "Where are you going?" I asked. If he needed his leg checked, they could do that right here.

"I've gotta talk to someone about our travel plans," he explained.

Excitement flooded through me and I suddenly felt much more awake. "Do you know when we're leaving yet?"

"No, but hopefully I will when I get back. I'll try to hurry, okay buddy?" I nodded and watched him slowly shuffle across the room. I felt a pang of guilt that he was still struggling with the crutches. I knew he'd probably be better on them if he hadn't spent most of his time sitting by my side.

He'd barely been gone more than a minute before two of the doctors approached me. One of them I didn't much like; even with the short time I'd been there I could tell his bedside manner left a lot to be desired. The other one, Davidson, was alright though.

"How're you doing, Curtis?" Davidson asked.

"Fine, I guess," I answered, not sure what else to say. I felt like crap, but at least it was better than a few days ago.

"We need to ask you a few questions, just to make sure we've done everything we can to help you."

Before I could even begin to consider this, the other guy, Price, started in. "How and when was your leg broken?" he asked abruptly.

"Umm, it happened a day or two before the camp was raided, I think," I answered slowly. "They—they jumped on it." I cringed as I remembered how painful it had been when the guard had smashed the bone to pieces.

Price made notes on a clipboard while Davidson offered me a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry. You'll be able to walk on it just fine once it heals."

I saw Price give Davidson a sharp look and my stomach clenched. What weren't they telling me? "What is it? Will I really be able to walk okay?"

Davidson sighed and glared at Price before turning to me. "Even under normal circumstances, beginning to walk on a leg that's been broken can be difficult. Your muscles have had to endure months of inactivity. It's going to make your recovery more strenuous. But, you _will_ recover," he added, shooting another glare at Price.

Price looked like he was trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He glanced at his clipboard and went back to asking questions. "The marks on your arms—they were made from rope?" My heartbeat started to quicken at the change in topic, but I nodded. "The cuts are extremely deep. Was your circulation cut off?"

I nodded again. "Is there permanent damage?" I asked, my voice shaking.

It was Davidson who answered. "There's no way to know for sure at this point. This isn't something we have a lot of experience with. It'll likely depend on how long your circulation was cut off for. Since you still have feeling and movement, I wouldn't worry about your arms suddenly becoming lame. But, you may have some nerve damage."

"What do you mean, nerve damage?"

"Weakness, tingling, and numbness would be the most likely symptoms," Price rattled off quickly. He didn't seem too interested in making me feel better and I wondered briefly why on Earth he'd bothered to become a doctor.

Davidson seemed to be as annoyed with Price as I was and broached the next question more gently. "It looked like there was a lot of damage to your shoulders. Were they dislocated?"

"More than once," I answered quietly. I was suddenly feeling exhausted and just wanted this all to be over with. "The guards set them."

Price seemed surprised. "Why did they do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe so they could pop them back out again later," I snapped. This guy was really starting to piss me off. He scowled at me and continued the debriefing.

"It looks like you were sexually assaulted?" He spoke it as a question and left it hanging there, waiting for me to confirm it. I opened my mouth a few times, trying to find an answer, but my mind was reeling. I hadn't expected them to know about Chu and I sure as hell hadn't planned on telling them about it. I finally gave up trying to find my voice and just nodded. There was a flicker in Price's eyes and I suddenly felt dirty all over again. I wanted him to go away. I never wanted to see him again.

"Is there anything else we need to be aware of?" Davidson asked kindly. My mind flashed to the fire, to James. I didn't want to talk about that. I didn't know his first name anyway, so what was the point? I shifted, trying to escape Price's penetrating stare, and winced as the movement pulled at the skin on my back.

"Did you give them any information?"

I glared at Price. "What the hell do you think?" I spat. I pushed myself onto my elbows, not bothering to hide the pain that shot through my ribs. "Do you think I'd be in this condition if I had?"

"What's going on?" I sighed in relief as I recognized Steve's voice. He hurried across the room as quickly as he could on his crutches and helped me lie back down. "It's okay, Soda," he reassured. "I'm sure they have all the information they need now. Right?" he added, turning to Price.

"Yeah, we're done. Get some rest, Curtis," Davidson said.

I ignored him, too upset to care that he'd bothered to be nice about the whole thing. When they'd left, Steve turned to me. "What was that all about?" he asked. I just shook my head and turned my gaze to the wall. I could feel my throat closing up and it was taking all the energy I had left to not start bawling.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I listened to Soda's breathing and relaxed as I finally heard it even out. It had been almost an hour since I'd found the doctors questioning him, but we hadn't exchanged a word since. Soda had just turned away from me, closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He did a real lousy job of it, though. His breathing was ragged and every so often his breath would hitch and a few tears would escape his closed eyes. For a while I debated pushing the matter, but in the end I played along and settled for just keeping silent company.

With his breathing steady now, I figured he'd finally succumbed to sleep for real and I decided to head over to my neighboring cot to try to get some shut eye myself. I climbed on and suppressed a groan as I brought my leg onto the bed. It had been a long couple of days and the area around the bullet hole was throbbing.

"Here, take these."

I looked up to find Maggie standing next to my bed with an offer of pain meds. I gratefully took them, already anticipating the welcome relief they would bring.

"Is he asleep?" she asked, looking at Soda's bed.

I nodded. "Yeah. Hey, Maggie?" She turned her attention back to me and gave me a questioning look. "What were the doctors asking him about?"

"They just needed some information about his injuries. They had to make sure they hadn't missed anything." She glanced down at her hands and I narrowed my eyes. It wasn't that I didn't believe her, but I had a feeling she wasn't telling me everything.

"So why was he so upset when I got back?" I asked. "Which injuries were they asking about?"

Maggie nervously ran a hand through her hair and darted her eyes around the room. "You know I can't tell you anything you don't already know," she said softly.

"Look, Maggie, I'm his best friend. Whatever happened, he's gonna need help with it. What aren't you guys telling me?" I fixed her with a hard stare and when she still didn't answer, I pressed further. "Has he even told you everything?"

"I doubt it," she answered, giving Soda a concerned look. Just as I was about to try again, she stopped me. "I'm sorry, I really can't tell you anything. I've gotta go." She turned and almost ran out of the room, making me more nervous than ever about what she was trying to hide. I'd already tried looking at Soda's chart, but there wasn't anything there except for technical junk.

Knowing I wasn't going to get any answers tonight and with fatigue starting to overtake me, I lay down and relaxed as best I could. I felt better knowing we at least had a departure date set. I'd had to fight it out with a sergeant, but I'd managed to get myself a later flight than originally planned. I laughed to myself as I remembered the argument.

"_What do you mean I'm going home in two days?"_

"_Exactly that, Private Randle. There's no flights leaving before that. I'm sure if you've waited this long, you can wait another couple of days."_

"_No, that's not the problem," I explained. "I need to fly back with Private Curtis."_

_The sergeant looked at the papers spread out on his desk and shook his head. "He's not due to leave till the 3__rd__. You don't need to be here that long."_

"_I know, but he's my best friend."_

"_Then you'll see him again a few days after you land."_

_I shook my head. "But he really needs me here."_

"_He's a big boy. I'm sure he'll be fine without you for a few days."_

"_Have you read his file?" All I got was a cold stare and I knew I was wearing his patience. "Please, just take a look at his file. Just two minutes." He glowered at me, but his curiosity got the better of him and he searched through his files until he found Sodapop's. As he skimmed through it, I saw his eyebrows raise a bit._

_When he'd finished, he put the file back in it's place and turned to me. "Look, I sympathize with your friend's situation, but we have limited resources and you're not strictly needed here. If he can survive three months in a prison camp, I'm sure he can survive a few days in the hospital."_

_I felt my temper slip before I could stop it. "But he shouldn't have to! He's been through enough already. Why is it so difficult to back my flight up a few days?" My voice rose with each sentence and I knew I was treading on treacherous ground now._

"_Watch your tone, PRIVATE," the sergeant growled, his voice low and dangerous._

_Immediately, I backed down, aware that I had to be careful if I was going to get what I wanted. "I'm sorry sir. I'm just worried about him. He's really having a hard time and he needs someone with him right now. He won't admit it, but he's scared. And I'd be helping to take care of him, which'll help make up for the extra days I'd be here."_

_I held my breath as I waited for him to decide. If he didn't give in now, there wouldn't be any changing his mind. Finally, he gave a slight nod. "Alright, I'll change your departure date to match his."_

_I let out my breath and broke into a grin. "Thank you, sir. Really." _

_He nodded and started shuffling through his papers again. "You're dismissed, Private Randle." I didn't have to be told twice. I left as quickly as I could, before he could take back his decision._

I wasn't sure what I would've done if the sergeant hadn't agreed to my request. I'd considered flat out refusing to leave, but I assumed they would've forcibly marched me onto the plane if I'd tried to stay. After that, I was out of ideas.

I was still considering what I might've done and was just starting to drift off to sleep when I heard strange noises from beside me. Looking over, I saw Soda moving restlessly on his cot. He was moving his head from side to side and seemed to be struggling against some unseen enemy.

Quickly, I grabbed the crutches and limped over to his bed. "Soda? Soda, wake up." I shook his shoulder, gently first and then a bit more forcefully. "C'mon Soda, you gotta wake up buddy." He kept struggling, oblivious to my presence. "Soda, _wake up_!" I yelled, and finally got a response.

His eyes flew open and he half shot up, but quickly fell back against the pillow with a moan. His breath came in ragged gasps and he looked around the room, clearly terrified. When his eyes landed on me, it seemed to take him a few seconds to realize who I was. "Steve?" he choked out.

"Yeah, it's me," I soothed, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away and I drew my hand back, not sure if I'd hurt him or if he was still scared. "It's okay, Soda. It was just a dream. You're safe."

His eyes stayed locked on mine as he continued to draw in shaky breaths. "I—I'm in the hospital?" he asked anxiously. I nodded and he relaxed a little, but not much. He moved his gaze to the ceiling, but reached his hand out, searching for mine. I took hold of it and sat down in the chair beside his bed.

Minutes crawled by and gradually his breathing returned to normal. The pain meds Maggie had given me were making me groggy and despite my concern for Soda, I could feel myself practically falling asleep in the chair. His grip on my hand was tight, though, and I knew I wouldn't be going back to my own cot any time soon.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N—Davidson said that they didn't have a lot of experience with possible effects of the ropes. It was a common experience with POWs, but there wouldn't be much medical knowledge of it till after the war ended, and even then studies weren't done till quite a few years later.

Please review…I really do love getting them!


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you for all the reviews! As promised, here's the reunion chapter. I doubt I'll be able to update for a couple of weeks. :( I work every day and we've had pretty much no snow till this week, so I haven't had any cancellations. It's been painfully cold though—the lake was frozen over as far as I could see on Friday. And I'm talking Lake Huron here, so it's not exactly too shallow.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter. :) I'll try to update soon.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Now three months equals eternity and this will be so hard  
And I will long to hold you in my arms

~~City and Color—In the Water, I Am Beautiful

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The sun shone down brightly and reflected off the snow, nearly blinding me as I came out of the grocery store. We'd run out of a few essentials and I'd offered to pick them up, opting to walk rather than take the truck. I'd been feeling restless ever since we'd found out about Soda, and a walk seemed like a good way to burn off some energy.

I was still having trouble believing that the past couple of days hadn't just been a dream. This morning I'd caught Darry staring into space and I figured he was having the same problem. Even with how happy I was, though, I was scared. I didn't know what kind of shape Soda would be coming home in, but from what Steve had said, it didn't sound good. I remembered what Johnny had been like after he'd been jumped, and that was just one time. Sure, he'd been abused his whole life, but it was the Socs who'd really changed him. Soda had always been so full of life and I was terrified that he'd come back a shadow of himself, if that.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't even notice Two-Bit coming up behind me. "Hey Pony!" he hollered, running up and clapping me on the back. I jumped and dropped one of the bags I'd been carrying.

"Damn it, Two-Bit!" I cried, quickly picking up the fallen bag and examining the damage. "You're lucky this was just bread!"

He just grinned at me, not at all worried about the condition of my groceries. I shook my head, my anger wearing off at his obvious good mood. He'd been in Oklahoma City visiting family, so we hadn't seen him since we'd gotten the news on Christmas Eve. I suddenly realized this meant he didn't know about Steve yet. Before I could think about telling him, a new voice spoke up.

"Hi, Pony." I turned to find Evie standing off the side, apparently having been walking with Two-Bit before he'd decided to pounce on me. Phone time was short and scarce in 'Nam and she probably didn't know about Steve, either. I felt a bit of guilt at not having phoned her myself, but I'd been so stunned that Steve was with Soda I hadn't even thought of telling her that her boyfriend was coming home.

"Hi Evie," I said, offering her a smile.

"Two-Bit told me about Sodapop," she said, smiling brightly at me, though I could still see a trace of sadness in her eyes. "It's great news!"

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow at me. "What's up, kid? You don't look as happy as I thought you would."

"You sort of missed the phone call we got Thursday." I saw his eyes darken and I knew he was wondering what Soda's condition was. The officers who'd come to the house hadn't given us much information.

"What did the army tell you?" he asked.

"It wasn't the army who called," I started, earning confused looks from both him and Evie. "It was Steve."

Evie's eyes widened. "Steve called you? How is he? Is he okay?"

"Umm…" I was suddenly nervous, not sure how she'd react to news of Steve's injury.

"Pony, is Steve okay?" she asked anxiously.

"Well, he was talking to us and he sounded fine. He didn't really tell us what happened. But he's coming home." Evie shrieked and threw her arms around me, making me almost drop my groceries again.

"He's coming home?" she asked, pulling away. Her eyes were shining in excitement and I nodded. "Do you know when?"

"Not yet. He said he'd let us know."

Evie clearly couldn't stop smiling as she turned in the opposite direction that we were going. "I've gotta go, guys. Thank you so much, Ponyboy!" With that, she took off running, I guessed heading off to spread the good news. I turned to Two-Bit, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet. He was frowning and I cocked my head at him.

"Not that I'm not happy Steve's coming home, but there's something I don't get," he said, his voice serious for once. "I thought the news you got was bad. What didn't you tell Evie?"

Two-Bit was more perceptive than people gave him credit for, though right then I wished he wasn't. I didn't really want to talk about it. "Steve is in the same hospital as Soda."

He stopped walking and put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me, too. "What's wrong with him?"

I sighed. "He didn't tell us much, but he said—he said he didn't recognize Soda." Two-Bit swore and I saw a pained look flash through is eyes. I knew he was probably picturing the same gruesome images that had been running through my mind ever since Steve's call.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"How much longer, Steve?" Soda asked. I laughed and glanced at my watch.

"Two minutes less than the last time you asked." Soda looked disappointed and I laughed again. "Relax, buddy. It'll come soon enough." We were both counting down the time till we'd be heading home, which would hopefully be in less than an hour. He was spending the time practicing using his crutches. The doctors had wanted to give his ribs time to heal and it had only been the day before that he'd been allowed to try the crutches out, but only for a few minutes at a time. Even after a week and a half in the hospital he was still in bad shape and it was obvious that even a small amount of exercise was taking its toll on him.

As he limped back to his bed, keeping all his weight off his broken leg, I could tell his energy was sapped. He'd gained back almost twenty pounds, but he wasn't anywhere near what he'd weighed before and his muscles were still weak. I took the crutches from him and helped him onto the bed, being careful of his ribs and back. Both were still causing him a lot of pain.

Though still prominent, the bruises had faded a lot and Soda's face was pale underneath. "You want some water?" I asked, and he gave a small nod. When he'd had a drink, he leaned back against his pillow, wincing a little as his back made contact. The bed was raised, letting Soda lean back but still stay sitting up.

"Darry and Pony are meeting us when we get there?" he asked, studying me carefully.

"Don't worry. They'll be there. Two-Bit, too." I'd managed to get a bit more phone time and had talked with Darry about our travel plans. If everything went okay, we'd be getting to Tulsa General Hospital around noon on the 5th. Soda would have to stay there for a few days before being released, but at least he'd be with his brothers.

Soda sighed and looked at my wrist, trying to read the time on my watch. I rolled my eyes and held it out to him, showing him it had only been another couple of minutes. We were both getting impatient, anxious to get going and be rid of this place.

"Transport's leaving soon. Time for a final checkup." Surprised at the unexpected interruption, we both looked up to find Dr. Price standing at the foot of Soda's bed. I saw Soda's face darken at his arrival, but he stayed quiet. Price picked up my chart and gave it a quick glance. "Alright, you first, Randle." He started examining my leg, making sure the wound was healing alright. I was still using my own set of crutches, but it was mostly cause I was still in the hospital and the doctors were making me. If I'd been home, I wouldn't have bothered with them much at this point. Not that I'd be running any time soon; my leg was still sore, especially if I put weight on it for too long.

When Price was finished with me, he turned to Soda, who visibly tensed. I reached out to take his hand and felt him flinch at even that small touch. "Relax, buddy," I said. "It's just a quick exam."

My words didn't have the calming effect I was hoping for. Soda shook his head, his eyes hard and set. "No, I don't want him to."

"Soda, he has to check you out before they can release you," I tried, but he just shrank away from Price.

"Look, you heard your friend. You're not going home till I do this exam, so let's just get it over with." Price's voice was harsh and I glared at him. He wasn't helping the situation any with that attitude.

"No, I don't want him touching me." Soda pulled his hand out of mine and moved himself further back. His face pinched at the effort, but he didn't seem to care about the pain. Price rolled his eyes and started forward, clearly planning to ignore Soda's protests. Soda, however, had no intention of giving in. "Stay away from me," he hissed, his eyes blazing with fury.

Price moved forward again and I was inches away from decking him when Davidson showed up. "Price, Lt. Yates needs to get checked out, too. Why don't you take him and I'll look after Curtis here?" Price glared at Davidson for a minute, but moved off and I breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever problem Soda had with Price, it seemed to be with him alone. His entire posture relaxed once Price was gone.

Davidson sighed and shook his head, then turned back to us, making sure to keep his distance from Soda. "Curtis, you going to be okay if I examine you?" Soda eyed him apprehensively, but after a minute he nodded his consent. He tensed up again as Davidson looked him over, clearly hating every second of the exam. I was completely confused by Soda's behavior. After three months of being tortured, I could understand why he was defensive when it came to people touching him, but something still wasn't adding up.

Davidson finished up and made some notes on Soda's chart. "Looks good, Curtis. You've got a ways to go, but you should fine for the flight back." Soda gave a small smile, relieved that we wouldn't be delayed. "About the flight home, you know you're going to be on a litter?" Soda nodded, but his expression became guarded. Davidson was leading up to something, and it was obvious he knew Soda wasn't going to like it. "During takeoff and landing procedures you're going to have to be strapped down."

"What?" Soda shot up straighter, stifling a moan as he did.

Davidson smiled sympathetically. "I know it's not ideal and it's probably the last thing you wanted to hear, but it's for safety. The alternative would be you rolling into a wall when the plane tilts."

"Can't I just sit in a chair when the plane takes off and lie down after?" There was an edge of panic in his voice. He turned to me, searching for help.

"It'll just be for a few minutes, Soda," I said, trying to calm him down. "I'll be right there the whole time." I hated having to side against him, but it was for his own good.

Soda looked back and forth between us and realized he didn't have a choice. With a silent nod he moved his gaze down at his hands. He stayed quiet the rest of the time we were waiting and after a while I gave up trying to get him to talk. I could only hope he'd be okay till we got home.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"C'mon, Darry! Aren't you ready yet?" I glared at Ponyboy as I laced my shoes up. He'd been bugging me the entire morning, trying to get me to go to the hospital early. Soda and Steve weren't supposed to arrive till noon and I'd told Pony there was no point in getting there any earlier than eleven. I was just as impatient to see them as he was, but I couldn't sit in a waiting room for hours, staring at a clock. At least here I had things I could do to keep myself busy. It showed, too. Thanks to my pent up energy, our place looked cleaner than it had since Mom and Dad had died.

Two-Bit, who was catching a ride with us, grabbed my keys from the coffee table and tossed them to Pony. "Why don't you start the car, kid?" he suggested, to which Pony readily agreed. I zipped my coat up and took a deep breath. Our second conversation with Steve hadn't been much more encouraging than the first and we were all scared as hell at what we were going to find when we got to the hospital. Three months is a long time to think someone's dead. "It'll be okay," Two-Bit said, coming over and putting an arm on my shoulder.

I nodded and started to move towards the door when the phone rang. I glanced at Two-Bit who just shrugged. I quickly went to answer it, eager to get rid of whoever it was and get going. "Hello?"

"Hey, Darry."

"Steve? Where are you?" I felt a wave of disappointment, assuming Steve was calling to tell me they'd been delayed. From the crispness of his voice, he was definitely on this side of the ocean, but they'd had a few stopovers before they were scheduled to make it to Tulsa.

"I'm at the hospital. Are you guys on your way?"

"You're in Tulsa already?" I asked, more than a little surprised.

"Yeah, the government finally did something right and got us here early."

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Soda was only a twenty minute drive from us. I suddenly wanted to kick myself for not letting Pony convince me to get to the hospital earlier. I shook my head, pushing the thought away and focusing on the present. "We're just leaving. We'll see you in a few minutes."

I slammed the phone down and followed Two-Bit out the door. He'd heard the conversation and was already half way to the truck before I'd hung up. He'd apparently told Ponyboy cause as soon as I opened my door, Pony was on my case. "I told you we should've gone earlier," he chided.

"Or I could've made you go to school today and then it wouldn't have mattered to you either way," I retorted. Pony knew I there was no way I would've followed through on that threat, but he didn't say anything more. It was the first day of school after Christmas break, making traffic lighter, and we managed to get to the hospital quickly. We were all on edge, torn between fear and excitement. It had been almost half a year since we'd seen either Steve or Soda.

Nervous or not, Pony was out of the truck almost as soon as I'd parked it and was in the building before Two-Bit or I had shut our doors. We raced to catch up to him and found him already waiting for an elevator. "Were you planning to wait for us?" I asked, annoyed. I had the feeling that if the elevator had come, he'd be on whether we were with him or not.

"You should move faster," he replied, stepping into the elevator as the doors opened. "You're getting old, Dare." I shot him a death glare, but he just grinned back at me and pushed the button for the third floor.

It seemed to take forever for the elevator to reach its destination. When it finally did, we quickly stepped out and headed for the nurses' station. "We're looking for Sodapop Curtis," I said to the nurse behind the counter. Before she had a chance to answer, we were interrupted.

"Hi, guys." We all turned around to find Steve coming toward us on crutches. Two-Bit immediately moved forward and grabbed Steve in a hug, who returned it wholeheartedly.

"Good to have ya back, Stevie," Two-Bit said happily. Pony and I quickly moved forward and gave Steve our own hugs. After being Soda's best friend for fourteen years, he'd become family and it felt damn good to have him back safely.

When we'd pulled away, Steve gestured to a half open door behind him. "That's Soda's room," he said, and my heart rate instantly doubled.

"Can we go in?" Pony asked.

"The doctors already got him fixed up so you can go in, but—" He paused and shifted on his crutches. "He still looks real bad." He glanced over his shoulder at the door before turning back to us.

"Thanks, Steve." He nodded at me and then watched as I took Pony by the shoulders and steered him in the direction of Soda's room. The whole scene reminded me of when Pony had come back after Windrixville, but this was so much worse. At least we'd had a pretty good idea that Pony had been okay, even if Dally hadn't actually said as much.

I pushed the door all the way open and we slowly made our way into the room. The bed was partly raised up and Soda was leaning back against the pillow, eyes closed. I heard a gasp from Pony as we took in the sight before us. Soda was a shadow of the brother we'd said goodbye to in July. He'd lost at least forty pounds and all of his muscle tone. There were fading cuts and bruises everywhere and I had to hold back a gasp of my own when I saw the marks on his arms.

At the sound of our footsteps he opened his eyes and they went wide when he saw who it was. He sat up straight and I didn't miss the look of pain that flashed across his face at the movement. "Darry? Pony?" His voice was small and it caught in his throat.

I nodded, swallowing back the lump that was blocking my voice. "Yeah, little buddy. It's us."

Pony suddenly raced forward and threw his arms around Soda, and without thinking, I did the same. I felt one of Soda's arms around me, pulling me closer, and knew the other was tightly around Pony. His fingers dug into my back, kneading the material of my shirt, and I heard him choke on a sob.

"Oh, God," he breathed, his whole body shaking in my arms. The room was silent except for the sound of our quiet crying. We didn't speak. We didn't need to. There would be time for words later. For now, it was enough just to be there.

I didn't want to let him go, not now that we had him back, but eventually Soda pulled back. He carefully lay back down and gave us a tired smile. "Go to sleep, Pepsi," I said softly. The stress of travelling had obviously exhausted him and now that he was here, safe, I just wanted him to rest. Soda nodded and was asleep in seconds.

Two-Bit and Steve poked their heads into the room and I saw my own shock flash across Two-Bit's features. Beside me, Pony backed up a few steps and I turned to find him pale and looking about ready to pass out. "Pone, you okay?" He gave a small nod and then turned and almost ran out of the room. I raced after him and got into the hallway just in time to see him round the corner.

I quickly followed him and found him sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up against his chest and his head buried in them. "Pone?" I asked quietly, sitting down next to him. His shoulders were shaking and I gently placed a hand on one. He looked up at me and my heart almost broke at the look of utter devastation on his face.

"What did they do to him?" His voice broke and more tears spilled down his cheeks.

I reached my arm around him and pulled him against me, taking in a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady my own nerves. Steve had warned us Soda was in bad shape, but nothing could have prepared me to see the battered and emaciated brother who'd been waiting for us. "I know it's a lot to deal with, Pony, but we can't let Soda see us like this."

Pony pulled back a little. "How…" he trailed off and just stared at me, his eyes searching mine for answers.

I slowly shook my head. "I don't know, little buddy. But we have to." I wished I had a real answer for him, some sort of advice that would help him deal with all of this better, but I felt like I was barely keeping my own emotions in check. I didn't want Soda to see me break down; he had enough to cope with without having to make us feel better.

I stood up and reached a hand out to Pony, pulling him up once he took it, and we walked slowly back to Soda's room. I was almost relieved Soda had gone to sleep right away. Pony had barely held onto his composure as long as he had and I wasn't sure how much longer I would have lasted, either. I just hoped we'd be able to deal with everything once Soda woke up.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Soda's home now…please review. :)


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry once again for the delay in updating! I know I sound like a broken record, but I really do mean it.

Kudos to anyone who realized what the date is in the story. If you didn't catch it, you'll find out. Also, as a quick note for anyone who doesn't know, a "Dear John" letter is a note from a girlfriend/wife that she's started seeing another guy.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

All these mixed emotions we keep locked away like stolen pearls

Stolen pearl devotions we keep locked away from all the world

~~Savage Garden—Tears of Pearls

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"So, how's it feel to be back?" Two-Bit slapped me on the shoulder and I grinned.

"It feels amazing," I laughed.

It was a relief to have finally arrived at our destination. The trip back had been rocky; Soda had been on edge the whole way, first from the restraints on the flight and then from more doctors' exams when we'd landed. I'd managed to get him to sleep some on the drive to Tulsa, but not much. I hoped he'd feel better now that he was settled in one place and had his brothers with him.

Two-Bit waited with me while I got a final checkup and signed my discharge papers. We'd agreed to give Soda some time alone with Darry and Pony, so we headed to the bus stop. He'd caught a ride with the Curtis' and I'd sold my car before I'd left. It had seemed like a better idea to have the cash if I wanted it and I didn't entirely trust my dad not to sell it behind my back. As we waited in the below freezing temperatures, I decided that getting a new set of wheels was at the top of my To Do list.

When the bus came, I held onto my crutches getting on and winced as I put most of my weight on my injured leg. The crutches were too awkward to use on the bus stairs, though, and the slush covering the ground didn't make that idea any more enticing than it already was. When I pulled the string for my stop, Two-Bit gave me a wide grin. "Have fun, Stevie!"

I rolled my eyes and smacked him on the back of the head, but I barely cared about his comment. I was much more interested in where I was headed. The bus stop was thankfully right in front of the apartment building I wanted and I made my way inside as quickly as I could. Evie's apartment was on the first floor, right near the front. She'd moved there right after we'd finished high school. Ever since I'd known her she'd had horrible fights with her parents over everything from dating me, to household chores. As soon as she'd moved out, the fighting had gotten better. I couldn't help but wonder if I could solve my own home problems the same way.

I brushed the thought aside and knocked on her door, suddenly growing nervous. Two-Bit had said she'd been waiting for me, but what if she'd moved on and he just didn't know about it? She'd sure sounded excited on the phone, but that wasn't a guarantee. I'd seen more than one guy in 'Nam get a Dear John letter and I'd always dreaded that I'd be next.

I heard footsteps and I took a deep breath. It was a good thing I did—the second the door opened my air supply was cut off. I'd barely managed to register that it was Evie who opened the door before her arms were around me and her lips were pressed against mine. For a minute, everything I'd been worried about vanished. The crutches fell from my as I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer. I ran my fingers through her hair, relishing in its softness. Breaking off the kiss, I buried my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. Lilies. It hadn't changed.

"Thank God you're home, Steve," she whispered. We stayed that way for a few minutes, just enjoying being together again, before she pulled away and took a good look at me. "Steve, your leg—"

I gently put my finger on her lips, then pulled her close again for another deeper, slower kiss. She didn't try to ask about my leg again. Instead, she moved back a few steps, leading me into the apartment and shutting the door behind us.

~_~_~_~_~_~

I felt peaceful for the first time in months. Groggy, but peaceful. I wasn't sure why and for the moment I didn't care; I just savored it. Gradually the drowsiness started to wear off and I remembered why I felt so good. I was home. Finally.

I fought the pain meds that were trying to pull me back under and opened my eyes, smiling when I saw Ponyboy sitting on the window ledge. He was staring blankly outside; behind him I could see the last rays of sunlight disappearing and I realized I must've slept the entire afternoon. The flight back had been more exhausting than I'd expected and the ambulance drive after we'd landed for the final time hadn't helped. My ribs were healing, but bumping along the highway for hours was an experience I wasn't eager to repeat.

I shifted in the bed, trying to sit more upright. The movement got Pony's attention and he quickly jumped down from the ledge and came over to help. "I'm fine Pony," I assured him as I got myself settled. He looked skeptical and I tried again. "Really. The meds help a lot." I indicated the IV sticking into my hand. I'd been starting on oral pain meds before we'd flown out, but after being tensed up and jostled around for hours on end I'd gratefully accepted the stronger meds offered by the hospital staff.

Pony still seemed unsure, but he pulled back some, hovering next to the bed and looking nervous. "How are you?" he asked somewhat tentatively. It was obvious he had no idea how to act—how much space he should or shouldn't give me. I wasn't even quite sure myself. For months I'd wanted nothing more than to be able to have the comfort of my brothers, but now that I had them…

"I'm better, now that I'm home," I answered, offering him a small smile. He tried to return it, but it faltered. I saw him glance at the marks on my arms and I nervously brought my hands to my lap. The movement just drew his attention to my scarred wrists and I heard him draw in a sharp breath. He reached his hand out towards mine, but stopped halfway and quickly drew it back.

"Sorry," he whispered, head down and eyes glued to the floor. I wasn't sure if he was apologizing for trying to take my hand in the first place or for stopping halfway.

I fiddled with the hospital blanket. I wanted to take Pony's hand, but everything was so strange and awkward. A horrible silence filled the room until I finally couldn't take it anymore. Pony was my brother for God's sake! I shouldn't feel nervous around him.

Summoning my courage, I slowly reached my hand out towards his. He glanced up, giving me a brief, almost timid smile before wrapping his hand around mine.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

I assumed he was asking about the cuts on my arms and wrists and I shook my head. "It doesn't matter," I said. I didn't want to think about the restraints that had sliced into my skin for hours at a time. I didn't want to remember the endless hours of pain, or the mind numbing fear that I'd never make it home.

Pony looked like he wanted to ask something else, but we were interrupted by the sound of the door quietly opening. Darry walked in carrying a cafeteria tray with some sandwiches and drinks on it. "Hey, you're awake," he said, smiling when he saw me.

I nodded. I suddenly felt a bit guilty for sleeping for so long. I hadn't seen Darry or Pony in months, and here they came to the hospital to welcome me home and I couldn't even stay awake for them. Darry didn't seem to notice anything, though. He tossed Ponyboy a sandwich, who looked at the label and made a face.

"Sorry, kiddo. It's all they had," Darry apologized, setting the tray down on the window ledge and taking a seat next to Pony.

I peered over towards Pony, who tilted the sandwich so I could read the label. As soon as I saw it, I burst into laughter. It was the first time I could remember laughing in a long time. My ribs gave a sharp pain of protest and I immediately sobered, but it felt good to have had that one lighthearted moment.

"You okay?" Darry asked, starting to stand up, but stopping half way. I'd brought my arm up to my ribs, but I lowered it now, trying to mask the pain.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. I was used to the pain by now and I didn't want it to ruin the amusement I'd felt a minute before. I smirked at Pony. "Only _you_'d get stuck with a baloney sandwich as your only option," I told him, earning a mock glare.

"The nurse said someone would be by with your food, soon," Darry said, turning to me. His eyes darkened some. I knew my weight was still way too low and I tried not to picture what he saw when he looked at me.

I started fiddling with the blanket again as silence filled the room. I figured I could ask how school and work were going, but the questions seemed so trivial. It wasn't that I didn't want to know, but they seemed like the kind of questions you asked after you'd been on vacation for a couple of weeks. As the silence stretched on, I realized there was only one thing I wanted to say.

"I missed you." I only whispered the words, but that didn't matter. Darry reached over and grabbed my hand, closely followed by Pony.

"We missed you too, Pepsi," Darry whispered back. The silence was comfortable now and we stayed that way until the nurse came with a tray of food for me. She set it down on a table that came partially over my bed and immediately left.

I took one look at the food and almost gagged on the spot. There was a dish of pudding and some apple juice, both of which were harmless enough, but sitting in the middle of the tray was a bowl of chicken and rice soup. The broth was bad enough, but the sight of the grains of rice floating in it made me want to hurl. My stomach churned and I brought a hand up to my mouth in an effort to will down the rising bile. Just looking at the tray, I could taste the mould that had routinely covered the food the guards had given me. I never wanted to even see, much less eat rice again in my life; I wasn't too wild about the idea of broth soup, either.

Before my stomach had a chance to fully rebel, Pony leaned over and grabbed the bowl of soup, replacing it with his still uneaten sandwich. I looked over to him questioningly, but he just shrugged. "I still don't like baloney," was all he said, and I knew he understood why I didn't want to eat the soup.

"Thanks," I said quietly, slowly unwrapping the sandwich. Darry had watched the exchange with worry in his eyes, but he stayed silent. Pony and I were both eating, and I guess he figured it didn't make a difference who was eating what. That didn't stop him from watching me carefully, though. I kept my eyes fixed on the tray of food, but I could feel him studying me. As happy as I was to be home, I had a bad feeling that things weren't going to be as easy as I wanted them to be.

Darry took a few bites of his sandwich, then seemed to decide that the silence had gone on long enough. "The doctor said you could come home in a few days," he announced. I looked up to find him still watching me. I was still shaken from when the food had been brought in, but I smiled anyway. I may have been back in Tulsa, but it was still a hospital and I couldn't wait to actually be back home.

"Did they give you a date?" I asked.

"Probably Friday." Today was Monday. I could live with another four days here. Suddenly, realization dawned on me. I looked at Darry, half in shock, half in guilt. "What's wrong, Soda?" he asked, frowning.

I already felt bad that he and Pony had to spend their day in the hospital, but now I felt really horrible. "Happy Birthday, Darry," I offered weakly, trying to muster as much enthusiasm as I could through the guilt.

He broke into a smile, obviously relieved that there wasn't a real problem. "Thanks, little buddy."

"You shouldn't be stuck here," I said quietly, looking down at my lap. "You guys should go out and celebrate."

I felt a hand close around mine and I looked up to find Darry staring at me, his face completely serious. "We are celebrating." Pony smiled his agreement, and I nodded, letting the subject drop. I wasn't ready for them to leave yet and if they said they were happy here, I wasn't going to push them out the door.

Apparently, though, I wasn't the only one who thought Darry should be celebrating. It wasn't more than a few seconds later that Steve poked his head in. When he saw I was awake, he nodded to someone outside the door, and a second later Two-Bit burst into the room, a big cardboard box held in his hands. "Happy Birthday, Darry!" he practically shouted, earning a glare from Darry and a laugh from Ponyboy.

"Would ya keep it down, Two-Bit?" Darry hissed. "They're gonna kick us outta here if you keep making that kind of racket!"

Two-Bit, as always, was completely unfazed. He ignored Darry, instead breaking into a very off key chorus of "Happy Birthday." As he sang, Steve shuffled in on his crutches, followed by an uncertain looking Evie, who was carrying a paper bag. Evie and I had never really been great friends; we got along fine, but we mainly knew each other through Steve.

When Two-Bit had finished his terrible rendition of the song, Evie took paper plates and plastic forks out of the bag she was holding. Darry took the cake from Two-Bit and starting handing out pieces. He was shaking his head at the antics, but he couldn't completely hide his laughter. When he handed me my piece, I practically started drooling at the sight of it. It was chocolate, something I hadn't tasted in an eternity. I devoured the piece in three bites, then eagerly accepted a second helping. Even though it was just a cheap, store bought cake, I couldn't remember anything ever tasting so good.

Not long after everyone had finished, Steve came over and lightly patted my arm. "We're gonna head out, buddy. It's been a long day. I'll come by tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded silently, disconcerted to him leave. He'd been with me every night since I'd been rescued. He looked beat, though, and I knew he couldn't stay. "Night, Steve. Thanks…" I couldn't finish the sentence—there was too much to thank him for. He grabbed my hand for a second, nodded, and turned to go.

Two-Bit shifted, then came over and gently squeezed my shoulder. I flinched under the touch and he drew his hand back, quickly covering up a hurt look. "Glad you're back, Soda," he mumbled. I didn't miss the confused glance he threw to Pony and Darry before leaving. I didn't want to react that way. Two-Bit was my friend, and I appreciated the gesture, but I couldn't help it. No matter how hard I tried to push back the memories and focus on the present, they kept replaying in my head, over and over. When Two-Bit had touched me, it wasn't his hand that I'd felt.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I saw Soda flinch as Two-Bit touched him and I gave a small shrug as he glanced our way. I tried to convince myself that Two-Bit had just touched a healing bruise, but something about the way Soda's eyes had flashed told me there was more to it.

When the three of us were alone again, Soda turned to us with a blank look. "You guys should probably go, too. It's getting late. Visiting hours must be almost over."

Darry nodded, but I wasn't ready yet. "Can't we stay a little longer, Dare? Or maybe they'll let one of us spend the night…" I trailed off as Soda shook his head.

"You've got school tomorrow, Pone. Besides, Steve already asked," he added quietly. I saw a trace of fear darken his features, but he quickly turned his face blank again. I was even more reluctant to leave him now and with the way Darry was tensed up, I thought he felt the same way. Soda had perfected this look through the years and we both knew it meant he was trying to hide something.

He didn't say anything else, and after a minute Darry stood up to leave. Soda lifted his head at the movement, and it was painfully obvious he was trying to hold back tears. "We'll be back tomorrow," Darry said, trying to reassure all of us. "Try to get some rest, little buddy."

I echoed Darry's words and Soda nodded. I wanted to hug him again, but I was too afraid of getting the same reaction Two-Bit had, so I turned and followed Darry out of the room. Before we closed the door, I heard a small sniffle. It reverberated in my head all the way to elevator. When the doors opened, I hesitated. "We should go back, Darry. He shouldn't be alone."

Darry shook his head and pushed on the elevator doors as they tried to close without us. "He needs some space, Pony."

"But he's crying!" I insisted, frustrated.

"I know," he sighed, pushing on the doors again. "But he waited till we left. He didn't want us to see."

I tried to argue back, but I couldn't come up with anything. I knew he was right. I stepped into the elevator in defeat and when Darry put his arm around my shoulders, I leaned into him, resting my head against his side.

I tossed and turned that night, waking up every couple of hours from another nightmare. My imagination kept conjuring images of how Soda had gotten the scars, of how his leg had been broken. After one particularly vicious nightmare, I reached over to Soda's side of the bed, wanting to curl into his arms, only to remember that he wasn't there. I felt guilty for needing his comfort, knowing he probably needed mine so much more. The anguished look he'd tried to hide as we left floated back to me, haunting the rest of my dreams.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you again to the people who reviewed! I have to admit, though, I'm kind of disappointed that I only got 3 reviews on the last chapter. It kind of makes me think people didn't like it. If that's the case, let me know so I can improve!

~_~_~_~_~_~

Lost and broken  
Hopeless and lonely  
Smiling on the outside  
Hurt beneath my skin  
My eyes are fading  
My soul is bleeding  
I'll try to make it seem okay  
But my faith is wearing thin

So you come along  
I push you away  
Then kick and scream for you to stay  
'cause I need someone to help me  
~~Good Charlotte—Wounded

~_~_~_~_~_~

The third stoplight in a row turned red and I groaned as I brought the truck to a stop. The drive to the hospital seemed to be taking forever. I was still supposed to be at work, but the predicted blizzard had started mid-morning and the boss had sent everyone home. Normally I would've volunteered to stay despite the weather, but I was anxious to get out as early as possible. I couldn't get the look on Soda's face as we left last night out of my head. Steve had said he'd drop by to see Soda, but he couldn't stay all day and I didn't want to leave Soda alone for too long. I didn't want him to feel abandoned.

I finally reached the hospital and found a parking spot. As I made my way through the corridors, I grew more and more nervous. His reaction to Two-Bit touching him had thrown all of us off. I'd talked to Steve, and he'd said that Soda had been the same way with the doctors in the army hospital, too. Soda was a lot of things, but he wasn't a dramatist. Something more than the physical pain was bothering him. Not that any of us expected him to be sociable after what he'd gone through, but a pat on the arm didn't seem very invasive.

Soda's door was open when I reached it and a nurse was just leaving. She smiled at me and I nodded back. "How's he doing?" I asked quietly, not wanting him to overhear me.

"He's good, considering the circumstances. Everything is healing nicely. I've just finished helping him clean up, so he's awake if you want to visit." She turned and disappeared down the corridor. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into Soda's room.

His hair was wet and he was still only half dressed. He was just putting his arms through his shirt sleeves, but his chest was still fully visible and I felt myself go rigid at the sight. It was littered with fading bruises, some of them as big as my hand. He had bandages wrapped around his torso to help his ribs and I could see more bruises that disappeared beneath the white gauze. Soda's head snapped up when he heard my footsteps and I saw a fleeting look of panic cross his face. He instantly tried to yank the shirt over his head, but he hissed and stopped, letting out a small moan.

I crossed the few steps to his side and gently reached out a hand to help him, but I caught sight of his back and my hand stopped in midair. The cuts covered his back and even though they were healing, there was no doubt about how deep they'd been. My mind seemed to freeze. I opened my mouth, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came out. Soda tried again to put his shirt on, more slowly this time, and I carefully reached out to help him. He didn't back away, but he didn't make eye contact, either. When we were done, he stared at his lap. "I didn't want you to see," he said quietly.

"I would've seen it eventually," I reminded him. I sat down and he slowly raised his eyes to meet mine. They were filled with regret and I forcefully swallowed back my anger at the people who had done this. "Soda, this wasn't your fault," I insisted firmly, reaching out to take his hand. "There was nothing you could've done to stop it."

"Yeah there was," he whispered, barely audible.

"Soda, no. You can't blame yourself. What happened _was not_ your fault," I repeated, but it didn't seem to have any effect. Soda sat in silence for a minute and when he finally looked back up, his face was blank again, like it had been the night before.

"How was work? You're here early. Did something happen?" His voice was casual, but there was a hint of shakiness in it. I knew Soda well enough to know there was no point in pushing him into talking. It was better to go back to the topic later. Right now, he would just keep backing away from it.

"There's a blizzard coming. The boss sent us home so no one would get snowed in."

Soda looked wistfully out the window at the falling snow. "Can you take me outside?" he asked, turning to me hopefully.

I gave him an apologetic smile and shook my head. "Your hair is soaking wet, Soda. You'll freeze if you go outside now."

He ran his fingers through his hair and laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he agreed. "Later?" He gave me the same hopeful look and I nodded.

"Later," I promised, taking his hand in mine.

He was quiet for a minute before he spoke again. "It feels good to be clean." I gave him a confused look and he dropped his gaze. "They didn't let me have a shower in…over there. The only times they took me out of my cell were when…when they…tortured me." A few tears ran down his face and I closed my hand tighter around his.

"It's over now, Soda." I moved so I was sitting on the side of the bed and gently wiped away the tears, trying to comfort him. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me, burying his face against my shoulder as he did. He'd been so withdrawn I was surprised at the sudden change, but I quickly pulled him closer. He didn't cry, but he kept a firm hold on me for a long time.

~_~_~_~_~_~

I watched the snow steadily fall outside as I listened to Soda's steady breathing beside me. When he'd finally pulled away from me, he'd fallen asleep almost right away. His earlier comment was still bothering me. I didn't want him blaming himself for anything that had happened to him, but I didn't know how to convince him it wasn't his fault.

Footsteps interrupted my thoughts and I looked up to see Ponyboy and Steve come into the room. "Hi," I greeted. "How was school, Pony?"

He shrugged and sat down in the chair next to mine. "It was fine. Couldn't concentrate much, though."

"It'll get better," I assured him, trying to sound more confident than I felt. He just nodded, barely hearing what I was saying. He was watching Soda sleep. I decided to take the opportunity to talk with Steve. I headed to the door, motioning for Steve to follow me.

When we were in the hall, he stopped and looked at me. "Everything okay, Darry?" he asked.

"Did Soda talk to you about what happened at all?" I questioned. I was hoping that maybe Soda had been more open when he'd first been rescued, or that maybe Steve had found something out from the doctors in 'Nam. The ones here hadn't been very forthcoming. They kept citing confidentiality issues. If Soda had been under eighteen they would've told me everything. On the other hand, if Soda had still been under eighteen, he never would've been over there in the first place.

Steve sighed and shook his head. "No, he's barely said a word about what happened. No one over there would tell me anything, either." I started leading the way to the cafeteria, planning to pick up a few snacks.

"Do you know what happened to his back?" I asked cautiously. An image of the long, crisscrossing scars flashed in my mind and I gave a small, involuntary shiver.

"He told me it was from a fan belt," Steve said, anger lacing his voice.

I froze in the middle of the hall and turned to face him. "A fan belt?" I asked in disbelief. Steve nodded, fire burning in his eyes. "Shit," I muttered. I started walking again, Steve limping beside me. He wasn't using his crutches, but I noticed he had them with him. "What about his leg?" I didn't really want to know the answer, but there was no point ignoring it.

Steve shook his head again. "He didn't tell me anything else. Rick didn't know anything, either."

"Who's Rick?"

"He found Soda. He said Soda was unconscious most of the time he was with him, though."

We'd reached the cafeteria and I put a couple of ham sandwiches and drinks on a tray. On the way to the cash register we passed the dessert fridge and I grabbed a brownie out of it. Soda had wolfed down the chocolate cake the day before so fast I'd been afraid he was going to choke, so I figured more chocolate couldn't hurt.

"You'll let me know if he tells you anything else?" I asked as we were heading back to Soda's room.

"Of course, Darry."

I nodded. When we got to Soda's room, we found him awake, but he was pale and shaking. He was leaning against the pillow, his arms wrapped around himself, Pony standing next to him looking unsure what to do. "What happened?" I demanded, quickly setting the food down and heading over to the bed. Soda shrank back, fear shining in his eyes. "Pony, what happened?" I asked again, turning to my youngest brother. It was Steve who answered.

"It was a nightmare, wasn't it, Soda?" Soda nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Pony asked softly. Soda shook his head and hugged himself more tightly.

Steve caught my eye and gestured to the tray of food behind me. I got his meaning and turned around to get the brownie. "We brought you something, Soda," I said, reaching out to offer him the dessert.

With a small smile, he slowly took it from me. "Thanks, Darry." As he unwrapped it and took a bite, I saw a bit of color return to his face. He seemed to notice the silence in the room and he spoke up between bites. "How's school Pony? Work isn't taking up too much time, is it?" I saw Pony falter a bit at the sudden casual question, but he recovered and managed to answer. As he told Soda about his classes, work—anything Soda asked about—I exchanged a glance with Steve. I could tell from the look on his face that this wasn't the first nightmare Soda had had, and we both knew it wasn't going to be the last.

When Pony had exhausted the subject of school, the room was filled with silence again. Soda seemed to grow tired of staring at his lap and he turned to the window. I saw his eyes brighten and I remembered the blizzard. "You ready to go outside, Soda?" I asked.

"More than ready," he agreed eagerly, sitting up straighter. I smiled at his change in attitude, relieved he'd found something to distract himself with.

I headed to the nurses' station to find out about a wheelchair and an extra blanket. When I'd gotten what I needed, I quickly headed back to Soda's room. He was already sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to go. He had on a sweatshirt now, courtesy of the care package Ponyboy had brought with us the day before. His legs dangled over the edge of the bed, his cast sticking out at the foot of the jogging pants he was wearing. When I brought the wheelchair up beside him, he put an arm around my neck and I lifted him into the chair, being as careful as I could of all his injuries. I saw him wince, but nothing more.

We moved through the corridors, Pony and Steve walking beside us. I'd covered Soda up with the blanket in an effort to protect him from the cold. I didn't want him getting sick on top of everything else. When we got outside, I looked down at Soda's face. It was completely lit up as he took in the newly fallen snow. Big, fluffy flakes swirled down around us and Soda reached his hand out to catch some, watching them melt as they met the warmth of his skin.

"It's beautiful," Pony smiled.

"Remember you said that when we're shoveling the driveway later," I reminded him, and his smile faded.

We stayed outside for a long time, mesmerized by the falling snow. "It's so quiet." Steve broke the silence and I nodded at his comment.

Soda's expression suddenly darkened. "Let's go in." His voice was tense.

"You sure?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm getting cold." He was lying. I looked to Pony and Steve and saw they knew it, too, but I didn't see any point in calling Soda on it. He hardly spoke a word the rest of the evening.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Friday morning came slower than I wanted it to. I was tired of hospitals, tired of being trapped in a single room with nothing to do and nothing to look at. Pony had spent the entire night before pestering Darry to let him skip school so he could be there when I came home. Darry had finally given in, more to shut Pony up than anything else. When they showed up at nine, I was dressed, packed, and ready to go.

"You gonna be okay on crutches?" Darry asked uncertainly as we got to the front door.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, Dare, I'll be fine. I've been using them all week."

"Alright, alright," he relented, handing them over. Taking them, I pushed myself out of the wheelchair and started making my way towards the truck. It would be another three weeks before I'd get the cast off. The doctor said the best case scenario after that would be two more weeks before I could think about going back to work, and only if there was minimal walking involved. I was determined to make the recovery time as short as possible; work would offer a distraction, which I was desperate for. Sitting around all day with nothing to do just gave me time to dwell on everything that had happened, and that was something I'd rather avoid.

As we got closer to the house, I started getting fidgety. Everything was familiar, but it was all so distant in my memory. We passed houses I recognized, but hadn't seen in months. The familiarity was a comfort, even if it was strange. I sucked in a breath as Darry pulled into our driveway. I could hardly believe I was finally home.

"You ready?" I jumped at the sound of Darry's voice. He had the passenger door open and was waiting for me to get out.

"Yeah, sorry," I apologized. I realized Pony was waiting for me to get out, too. I grabbed the crutches and slid to the edge of the truck, letting Darry help me to the ground. I hobbled up the driveway and followed Darry in the front door.

The living room looked the same as it always had and I drank in the sight. I'd spent countless hours in my cell dreaming of it and it was surreal to finally be there. "You should sit down, Soda," Pony suggested, nodding to the couch. "The doctor said you shouldn't be on your leg for very long."

"I'm not putting any weight on it," I argued, but I moved to the couch anyway. I hadn't slept well the night before and the thought of just sitting and resting was far too inviting. Pony followed me while Darry headed off to the kitchen.

"You happy to be home?" Pony asked, taking my crutches and leaning them against the wall once I'd sat down.

"I have never in my life been so happy to see this place," I laughed. Darry smiled at me as he came in from the kitchen carrying a glass of chocolate milk.

"It's good to have you back here," he agreed as he handed me the glass. "It wasn't the same with you gone, Pepsi."

Pony and Darry both sat down on either side of me, keeping their distance. I didn't want distance right now, though. I'd dreamed so long of being safe and this was the first time I really and truly felt like I was. I scooted over towards Darry and rested my head on his shoulder, then reached my hand out for Pony. I saw him smile as he moved over and put his arm around me. As Darry pulled me closer, I closed my eyes, sinking into a small piece of heaven.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Please, please review!


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you so much for the reviews in the last chapter! I hope it didn't make me sound greedy or anything, but it's a little depressing when I look at the stats and see that not even 10% of readers reviewed. So again, thank you. :)

Sorry it took me longer than I wanted to get this chapter posted. I was having trouble with it and it ended up turning out very, very different from what I'd planned. Hopefully that's a good thing.

My final exam is in 3 weeks and I should have a lot more free time after that, even once horse racing season starts again. I certainly _hope_ to get at least one chapter posted before that, but at least afterwards they _should_ speed up for a while.

~_~_~_~_~_~

I got you and I got nothing left

Don't leave me all alone down here

With myself and all of my fear

I'm alive but tell me and I free

I got eyes but tell me can I see

The sky is falling and no one knows

~~Lifehouse—The Sky is Falling

~_~_~_~_~_~

"_What were you doing on this side of the river?" The incessantly serene voice mocked me, daring me to come up with an answer that would satisfy the question. I couldn't answer. I didn't understand what I was supposed to say. _

_Unseen hands roughly pulled me up and before I could figure out what was happening, I was plunged into a watery void. I struggled to break the surface, but the hands pushing my head down were too strong. I hadn't taken a breath. My lungs were empty, but I couldn't get up. _

_Instincts overpowered logic and my mouth opened in a desperate attempt to find oxygen, but all it found was water. Water poured into my lungs, drowning me. My body convulsed, trying to break free of the iron grip holding me at the same time as it tried to expel the poison from my lungs. _

"Soda! Soda, please wake up!"

The panicked voice suddenly broke through to me and my eyes shot open to find Ponyboy leaning over me. I grabbed onto his arm as I sucked in huge lungfuls of air and fire ripped through my chest. My broken ribs fought my lungs' desperate struggles and I choked back a cry as the injury struggled with the effects of the nightmare.

"It's okay, Soda," Pony soothed from somewhere above me. "It was a dream. It wasn't real." I managed a nod as I attempted to breathe normally. I was still holding tightly to Pony and I felt him gently rest a hand on my head. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized how ironic it was that Pony was having to calm me down from nightmares.

"I'm here if you wanna talk about it," Pony offered quietly.

I shook my head. "No," I whispered, but I kept my hold on his arm. I wanted to let go, to pretend to my little brother that I was okay, but I couldn't bring myself to loosen my grip. My lungs still felt strained, even now that my breaths were steady again. The dream had been far too real. They all were.

A loud beeping suddenly sounded from beside Ponyboy and we both jumped at the unexpected noise. Pony reached over and hit the off button on the alarm clock, bringing the room back to an uncomfortable silence. I forced myself to let go of his arm, knowing he had to get up. He studied me uncertainly for a minute before heading out of the room. I was thankful he didn't try to push me into talking. It was too early and I was too tired to figure out how to avoid answering any questions. I'd been home from the hospital for a week and I'd hardly said a word about what had happened. I couldn't stand the thought of everyone knowing more than they already did.

It was hard to get back to sleep after the nightmares. Sometimes I managed, but other nights I had lain awake for hours until Darry or Pony had finally gotten up. I could hear Darry make his way into the kitchen and I decided there was no point in trying to get back to sleep. I pushed myself onto my elbows and brought my legs over the edge of the bed, grimacing as various parts of my body protested the movements.

My crutches were leaning against the wall and I grabbed them, using them to pull myself up. My left leg wasn't hurt, but the muscles were too weak to support much weight. I'd been told that physical therapy would help once the cast was off, but I couldn't do much till then.

Pony had closed the door when he'd left and as I opened it, I heard voices coming from the kitchen.

"He had another one?" Darry asked, and I realized they were talking about my nightmares. I stopped, listening to the hushed conversation.

"Yeah. It was bad. I had a hard time waking him up," Pony sighed.

"You want to switch rooms tonight?" Darry offered. I wasn't sure what to think of that. My first night home he had asked me if I'd wanted my own room, but I'd turned him down. I didn't want to be alone at night. The idea of Darry sleeping next to me was comforting; it was safe. But did I really want to be the nineteen year old who had to have his big brother stay with him at night? I knew I'd always told Pony it didn't matter when he'd expressed the same fear to me, but this was different. I wasn't thirteen, like Pony had been.

"No, it's okay. The nightmares aren't every night." I breathed a sigh of relief at Pony's answer, partly cause I didn't have to decide if I would accept Darry's offer, and partly cause it meant I was a better liar than I thought, at least where Pony was concerned. I _was_ having nightmares every night, but most nights I was able to wake myself up before Pony noticed. When he asked in the morning how I'd slept, I always told him I'd slept fine. I guess he believed me.

I knew my brothers were worried. I couldn't blame them—_I_ was worried. As my body slowly healed, my mind had more energy, and it used it to continually bring me back to everything that had happened. I could only hope that as time wore on, the memories would fade. So far, no such luck.

I was getting tired just standing there, so I started the trek down the hallway, being sure to make some noise so they would know I was coming. I didn't want to be a part of their conversation. "Morning," I greeted as I made it to the kitchen. I slumped down in a chair, tired even from the short walk down the hall. I couldn't wait to get this cast off so I could start getting more strength back.

"Morning, Sodapop," Darry returned, giving me a less than subtle scrutinizing look. I ignored it, determined not to bring up the subject of my health. Darry apparently didn't plan to broach the topic either, at least not to my face. "What're your plans today, little buddy?" he asked, getting up to put together some breakfast for me. I gave him a grateful smile as he handed me a plate of eggs, toast, and jelly.

"Not much," I said, shoving a heaping forkful of all three into my mouth. I still hadn't gotten over how good real food tasted after so long of nothing but rice and soup.

"Two-Bit said he was going to stop by," Pony spoke up.

"He did?" I asked, startled. He hadn't been by much since I'd been home, and never when I was here alone. I think he was still put off by how I'd reacted to him in the hospital.

"Yeah. I wouldn't count on it happening before noon, though," Pony laughed.

I gave him a small smile before falling silent again. I was hoping Two-Bit really would show. I missed him and I didn't want him to keep staying away. I could use some of his humor. Not to mention, Darry and Pony would both be gone all day and there wasn't a hell of a lot to do.

Once breakfast was finished and I was left alone in the house, I hobbled to the couch and leaned back. The day before, Darry had ordered me not to touch the dishes. He'd wanted me to rest, but I'd been bored out of my mind, so I'd ignored him and done them anyway. He hadn't said anything about it, but this morning he'd made sure to do them before he left. I sighed and decided to turn the T.V. on for lack of anything better to do. I couldn't just sit and stare at the wall all day; it gave me too much time to think.

Flipping through the channels, I saw I had a choice between soap operas or game shows. I chose the lighter option and settled down, trying to find a position that didn't irritate my ribs, back, or leg.

For over an hour I watched contestants pull stupid stunts in an effort to make themselves rich. Eventually, the images all started to blur together. I could feel myself fading out and I shifted in an effort to stay awake, but it didn't help for long. Before I knew it, the sound of a door slamming jolted me back to consciousness. I sat up quickly—too quickly—and winced as my ribs throbbed.

"Shoot, sorry, Soda. I shoulda realized you'd be sleeping." Two-Bit sat down beside me on the couch and threw me an apologetic look.

"Don't worry about it," I insisted. I had the vague feeling that my mind had been on the verge of dreaming and I was relieved that something had brought me back from it.

"How're ya doing?" Two-Bit asked, studying me carefully. I was suddenly thankful that it was winter and I was wearing a long sleeved sweatshirt.

"Bored," I answered, avoiding the real question. "There's nothing to do around here."

"I guess you're sorta stuck here with that leg," he said, nodding towards the cast poking out of the end of my sweatpants.

I nodded and we were quiet for a minute. Two-Bit still seemed uncomfortable and I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to say. Finally I decided there was only one option. "Two-Bit, I'm sorry about…at the hospital…It wasn't your fault." I watched his face nervously, hoping he understood that I couldn't help it. He met my eyes and I could see they were deadly serious, more serious than I could ever remember seeing them.

"It's okay, Soda." He smiled, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "You wanna hear some news?" he asked, breaking into his trademark grin. I was so relieved to see him back to normal, I couldn't help but grin back.

"You finally got a job?" I joked, laughing. He'd finally graduated high school in June, at the age of twenty, and we'd all taken bets on how long it would be till his mom got sick of him hanging around the house all day.

His face fell a little at my comment. "How'd you guess?"

I felt my mouth drop open and I quickly closed it so I wouldn't hurt his feelings. "I was kidding! You mean you actually did get a job? Doing what?"

"Bartending," he answered. "Buck was looking for someone. I start tonight."

"Buck's really gonna trust you around the beer?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Sodapop, I would never steal beer!" he cried indignantly. He managed to hold onto a mock hurt expression for another five seconds before breaking back into a wide grin. "Buck knows I have enough beer at my house. I don't need any of his."

"Now that sounds much more believable," I said, smiling.

Two-Bit glanced over his shoulder at the window, watching the snow that had started falling sometime in the morning. "You wanna go outside?" he asked, turning back to me.

I stiffened. I liked watching the snow from inside. But outside…it was too quiet out there. I hadn't realized it till Steve had mentioned it at the hospital, but the falling snow muffled all the normal sounds, creating an eerie stillness. It reminded me too much of the endless hours of smothering silence in the prison.

"We don't have to…" Two-Bit trailed off, noticing my hesitation.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. I didn't want to draw any more attention to my behavior than I already had. "It looks cold. How 'bout a drive?" I suggested. I really did like watching the snow. I just didn't want to I _hear_ it.

"Sure," he grinned, jumping up and grabbing his coat, then getting mine from the closet. He paused as he handed it to me, giving me a concerned look. "You need any help getting it on?"

"No, I got it," I answered, slipping one arm into the jacket. When I reached around to grab the second sleeve, though, a sharp pain shot through my chest. I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to breathe through it, but breathing moved my ribs and made it worse.

"Soda, where're your meds?" Two-Bit asked gently, and I realized it had been a few hours since I'd taken them.

"Bed," I hissed, using as few words as possible. A minute later I felt a pill being put into my hand and I gratefully popped it into my mouth. I stayed perfectly still, waiting for the pain to let up. When it did, I opened my eyes to find Two-Bit watching me anxiously.

"You okay?" he asked. I nodded, but he didn't look convinced.

"Can you help me with the jacket?" I asked reluctantly, ignoring his watchful gaze.

"You sure you still wanna go? We can just stay here."

"I'm sure," I insisted. The last thing I wanted was to sit around and have Two-Bit wonder if I was okay. I was getting more than enough of that from Darry and Ponyboy. Plus, I really, really wanted to get out of the house for a while.

I still had one arm in the jacket and Two-Bit took the second sleeve and carefully helped me into it. The meds were starting to take effect and I was able to hide the pain the movement caused. I took my crutches, which I'd leaned against the side of the couch earlier, and pulled myself to my feet. Two-Bit stayed close on our way to his car, but he hung back a couple feet, careful to keep his distance.

"Anywhere you want to go?" he asked as he watched me maneuver into the passenger seat.

"No. I just want to get out for a while." He nodded, then stored my crutches in the back seat and hopped behind the wheel.

It felt like we crawled down the streets and when I stole a glance at the speedometer, I saw Two-Bit was driving under the speed limit. I didn't like the special treatment, but on the other hand, I didn't want to think about going over all the bumps in the road at full speed. I decided to ignore Two-Bit's newly adopted driving habits and focused on the scenery passing by outside. The snow was still falling thickly, quickly gathering on the ground. I smiled as we passed kids who were out for lunch, watching as they launched snowballs at each other.

"You hungry?" Two-Bit asked, gesturing to the Dairy Queen up the street.

My stomach rumbled, but I shook my head. "I didn't bring my wallet."

"Don't worry about it. I've got this one," he said, pulling into the parking lot.

"Two-Bit…" I started, not wanting to accept charity, but he cut me off.

"Shut it, Soda." I looked over at him sharply, but he was already half way out the door. "Wait here. I'll be back in a minute."

I stared at his retreating form and swallowed back my argument. I'd forgotten how stubborn he could be when he'd made up his mind about something. While I waited, I watched the customers go in and out of the building, laughing and talking with each other. I felt a pang of jealousy at the simplicity of their lives. A few months ago, I'd been one of them.

When Two-Bit came back with the food, my mouth started watering from the intoxicating smell. He handed me a burger and I quickly devoured it, all thoughts about who had paid gone from my mind.

"So how'd you get the job at Buck's?" I asked, taking a long drink of chocolate milkshake.

"I was hanging around the place late last night and overheard an argument between Buck and his old bartender. Turns out Buck caught the guy with his girl, so he fired him. Enter moi!"

I smiled, shaking my head at Two-Bit's opportunism. I just hoped he wouldn't be stupid enough to flirt with Buck's girl.

As we finished up our burgers and Two-Bit started heading back to my place, I could feel my energy waning. Everything seemed to take so much effort and I got tired faster than I liked to admit. We hit a pothole and I winced as it jarred one of my broken ribs.

"Sorry," Two-Bit apologized and slowed the car down a bit more.

"It's okay," I muttered. I moved a hand to my abdomen in an effort to protect myself from any more bumps that might be hidden under the snow. I couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if Rick's unit hadn't found me. By the time they'd shown up, the pain from the beatings had been unbearable and all I'd wanted in the world was to die. I was sure if the guards had done anything else, that's exactly what would've happened.

"Sodapop?!" The sharp yell jerked me out of my thoughts as we pulled into the driveway, and I looked up to find Ponyboy running across the lawn to the car.

I reached for the door handle, but he beat me to it and threw open the door. "What's wrong, Pony?" All my attention was on my brother, wondering what the problem was, and I moved to stand up, forgetting momentarily about my broken leg. The second my weight went on it, I screamed and collapsed back on the seat of the car. Gritting my teeth, I doubled over and gripped my leg, cradling it.

"Soda?" I heard Pony's voice from somewhere near my head and I felt a hand gently touch my shoulder. I flinched, and the hand instantly drew back. "Soda, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd go stand up like that." I nodded faintly. I realized again that I wouldn't have survived if I was still in the prison camp. They wouldn't have set my leg, or they would've done a lousy job of it if they had bothered.

When I'd gotten the pain somewhat under control, I sat back up and looked at Ponyboy. "What the hell was the problem, Pony?" I asked irritably, any traces of the good mood I'd been in gone. He'd come running out like a bomb was about to explode, and after the fire that had shot up my leg a minute before, that had better be what was wrong.

He backed up a step and looked at the ground. "I was worried," he mumbled, refusing to meet my gaze. "I didn't know where you were."

Part of me was touched at his concern, but another part of me was still reeling from the shock of the pain. "I'm a big boy, Pony," I bit out, glaring at him. "I don't need your permission before I go somewhere."

"I know. I just…you weren't there."

Two-Bit had come around the car by then and he handed me my crutches. I grabbed them and took off for the house as fast as possible, which unfortunately wasn't very fast. I could hear Two-Bit quietly talking to Pony, and from the snatches of the conversation that made their way across the yard, I figured he was apologizing for taking me out. I didn't want him to apologize. I wasn't a kid and if I wanted to go out in the middle of the day, I would.

A tiny pang of guilt nagged at my conscious as I fumed at Pony. I knew I'd be just as worried if our positions were reversed. That didn't fix the pain that was shooting up and down my leg as I made it to the front door, though. I limped to the couch and immediately collapsed on it, throwing my crutches to the ground. I managed to shrug out of my coat more successfully than I'd put it on and tossed it to the side. The bottle of pain pills was still on the table where Two-Bit had left it and I swallowed one dry.

I stared blankly at the T.V., not even registering what I was watching. I wanted to lie down on my bed, away from everyone else, but the truth was I couldn't manage the last twenty feet to my room.

I heard Two-Bit's car drive off, then the sound of the front door closing, but I didn't turn around. I kept my eyes glued to the T.V. as I felt Ponyboy sit down beside me. "I'm real sorry, Soda," he whispered, and I briefly closed my eyes. I knew he was sorry and I knew I should forgive him, but I was just in so much damned pain.

Pony fell silent and I sighed. He already had to put up with my nightmares; he shouldn't have to put up with this, too. "It's okay, Pone," I said, finally looking over at him. He was staring back at me uncertainly, almost warily; it was so rare I got mad at him. "Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you, Pony. But really, what did you think had happened to me? I can't exactly go anywhere on my own, and you knew Two-Bit was coming over."

He shrugged and stared down at his hands. "I know it was stupid. But when I came home and you weren't here, it was almost…almost like you'd never come home at all."

"Oh, Pony," I breathed, understanding now why he'd been so panicked. He still didn't look up and I shifted over a foot so I could reach him. Gently, I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his shoulders shake as I pulled him into a hug. "Pony, I'm here. I'm home, and I'm not going anywhere."

~_~_~_~_~_~

Please take a minute and let me know what you thought.


	15. Chapter 15

Again, sorry for the delay in updating! If you read my profile you know why—between job interview and school and work, there just wasn't time. My exam was today (yay! Though not for the getting up at 5:30 cause it's an hour drive), so that'll help.

The song I used for this chapter is, for me, the perfect Outsiders song. I just think it completely describes how they might feel a few years after the book. And if anyone has song suggestions, feel free to let me know. I could definitely use them—I have a few reserved for upcoming chapters, but I need more.

X X X

Don't believe everything happiness says  
Nothing feels better than hiding these days  
We bury our fears in the drinks, in these tears  
For the days we believed we could fly

~~Hedley—Old School

X X X

Sunlight streamed across my face, the brightness of it slowly pulling me out of sleep. I moaned and shifted, trying to bury my head in the pillow so I could go back to sleep. Suddenly there were fingers running through my hair and my eyes flew open to find Evie lounging next to me. She giggled at my surprise. "What, did you forget you fell asleep here?" she asked playfully.

I groaned and rubbed my face. "Actually, yeah," I admitted. Evie frowned and I felt her hand stop moving.

"Gee, glad I'm so memorable," she huffed, pulling away.

I groaned again, realizing my mistake. "I didn't mean that, baby. Of course you're memorable. I just haven't slept that good all week. So really, it's a compliment," I coaxed.

She raised an eyebrow at me and glared for another minute before her features softened. "You did look real tired last night," she conceded.

"Well, I feel a lot better now," I said, grinning slyly.

"Oh, do you?" Evie asked, moving closer again and sliding an arm around me.

"Yeah, but I bet I could feel even better." I pressed my mouth to hers and gave a soft moan as she responded to the kiss, but after a minute she pulled away.

"I can't, Steve. I have to be at work soon." She smiled apologetically and I sighed, watching her sit up. As the sheet fell away from her body, I couldn't help but admire the way her dark hair fell over her shoulders, how she moved in a way that somehow accentuated all her curves. She pulled a robe out of the closet, slipped it on, and turned around to catch me staring at her. "You know, if you moved in, you could see this every day." She flashed a seductive grin, then breezed out of the room.

My mouth hung open and I stared after her in shock. She did _not_ just say what I think she said. Hoping that I was still dreaming, I pinched myself. Nope—definitely awake.

"Evie!" I called, jumping out of bed and quickly throwing on my pants from the night before. "Evie, _what_ did you just say?" She was pouring milk onto a bowl of cereal and calmly looked up at me as I stormed into the kitchen.

"I said you should move in, Steve."

"Evie, I love you. You know that. But I just got back three weeks ago. I haven't even started work again."

"But you will be in a couple of days," she pointed out.

I groaned. "That's not really the point, Evie."

"Then what is, Steve? You don't get along with your dad. You said yourself you slept better last night than you have all week, which is the only night you spent here. My apartment is barely further from the DX or Soda's place than your dad's house is."

"Yeah, but—" I started to protest, but she cut me off.

"Steve, we've been together for three years. There's nothing keeping you at home. If not now, when?"

Before I had a chance to answer, she ate the last bite of her cereal and stalked out of the room. When she came back through the kitchen, showered and dressed, I still hadn't moved. I was having trouble digesting everything she'd said.

Evie came over to me and gave me a quick peck before grabbing her purse and moving to the door. "Just think about it, okay?" she asked, her eyes solemn. I managed a nod, still reeling from the conversation.

X X X

"Two-Bit, are you even listening to me?" I demanded angrily. I was sitting on a bar stool watching Two-Bit work. I couldn't quite get over the idea that he actually had a job, and bartending no less. It was strange to have him on the other side of the counter.

"Course I am, Stevie," he chirped, then immediately ducked down to grab some beers from the fridge beneath the counter. Popping the caps off, he handed them to the waitress who'd asked for them. "Here ya go, doll," he said, winking. She smiled her thanks and moved off into the crowd. "So, Evie wants you to move in with her?" he asked, turning back to me. "Sorry, Steve, but I don't see the problem."

"You're kidding, right?" I asked incredulously. "She wants me to _move in_. How do you not see the problem?"

Before he answered he glanced behind me and held up two fingers, a questioning look on his face. A second later, he'd grabbed two more beers and passed them to a guy who'd come up beside me. The guy handed over a bill and walked off, leaving his change with Two-Bit. "Evie's a great girl. She's gorgeous, funny—"

"She's got a hell of a temper," I interrupted.

"Look who's talking," he shot back. I glared, but I shut up. "Steve, you and Evie love each other. She's got her own place. Your old man's an ass who used to kick you out once a week, which he'll probably start doing again now that you're back. Why the hell _wouldn't_ you move in with her?"

I started to retort, but I was cut off once again by a waitress asking Two-Bit for drinks. As he started making an order of Caesars, I continued to make my argument. "But once I move in, she's gonna start hinting for more."

"She's nineteen. She's not looking to get married yet," he said, handing over the finished drinks.

"Soda wanted to marry Sandy when he was sixteen," I pointed out.

Two-Bit rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but Soda's a romantic sap."

I groaned, knowing he was right. Evie wasn't anywhere near ready for marriage, thank God. "You really think I should move in?"

"Hell Steve, if you don't, I will."

"Like Evie'll take you," I snorted.

He threw an ice cube at me and moved down the bar to help a customer, leaving me to think about what he'd said. The night passed on as I mulled my options over. He did have a point—it was just moving in, and I sure liked being there better than being at home. And Evie was right; if I didn't do it now, when would I be ready?

Watching Two-Bit was almost hypnotizing. He was a constant flurry of activity, grabbing the waitresses' drinks at the same time as talking with the customers. Besides shoplifting, I'd never seen him so focused on one task for so long. Before I realized it, it was closing time and I decided to hang around so I could catch a ride with Two-Bit. I'd found a guy selling a used car cheap, but I wasn't picking it up for another couple of days. Even with my leg was doing better, I didn't much like the idea of walking five blocks on it.

As he started the process of counting all the liquor behind the bar, he turned to me. "How do you think Soda's doing?" he asked, eyes dead serious.

Slowly, I shook my head. "Honestly? I have no idea. I can't get him to talk. Neither can Darry or Ponyboy. Have you had any luck?" I had the small hope that Soda might open up to Two-Bit; he had a way of making people feel better.

"No, he hasn't said anything," he answered, killing that hope. "Seems like he's doing his best to pretend everything's fine."

"He's gotta talk to someone soon," I sighed. "Soda doesn't deal well with stress."

"You know, you haven't done much talking yourself, Steve." Two-Bit gave me a meaningful look, but I brushed him off.

"I ain't Soda."

"That doesn't mean you don't need to deal with it," he insisted as he put away the last liquor bottle and moved on to the cash register.

"Really, Two-Bit, I'm fine," I scowled, and he raised his hands in defeat.

"Alright, alright. Just remember I'm here if you change your mind." I nodded, not entirely dismissing the offer. I'd been lucky in 'Nam, landing in a unit that mostly stuck on the sidelines. Not that we hadn't gotten hit, but it wasn't like I'd never seen death before, like I hadn't lost friends before. And I'd forced myself to avoid attachments over there. It had made it a little bit easier when people didn't make it.

"Ready to go?" Two-Bit asked when he'd finished cashing out and cleaning up. I nodded and he grabbed a handful of bills from the counter and stuffed them in his wallet.

"Uh, Two-Bit," I started, watching him in disbelief. "This ain't a store. Buck's gonna notice if he's missing money and he's gonna know you're the one who took it."

Two-Bit laughed and clapped my back. "Steve, that money ain't Buck's. Those are my tips."

"Your tips?" I asked, following him out the door to his car. "There must've been over twenty dollars in that pile."

"Twenty-seven, to be exact," he corrected, a smug grin on his face. "I was made to bartend!"

X X X

I rummaged through the fridge, frowning at the quickly dwindling food supply. I'd gotten used to buying enough food for just me and Ponyboy, but with Soda back the same amount wasn't going nearly as far. I made a mental note to stop by the grocery store on my way home from work. Stifling a yawn, I pulled out the bread and popped two pieces in the toaster, figuring they would have to make do for breakfast. Unless I wanted leftover pizza, the toast was my only option.

A door suddenly slammed down the hall and I heard the water in the bathroom turn on full blast. Glancing at the clock, I wondered why Pony was in such a rush; school didn't start for another hour. I didn't have to wait long to find out. By the time I'd buttered my toast, a fully dressed Ponyboy was running through the kitchen and making a mad dash for the front door.

"Whoa, Pony. Where're you going so fast?"

He barely spared me a glance as he grabbed his backpack and yanked open the door. "My alarm didn't go off and I was supposed to meet for a group project five minutes ago." The explanation came out in such a jumble of words that it took me a minute to figure out what he'd said. By the time I did, he was already sprinting down the driveway.

"What the hell was that all about?"

I looked up to find Sodapop standing at the end of the hall, staring at the front door that Pony had just slammed behind him.

"He said he was supposed to meet some people before school." Soda shook his head and shuffled over to the table, placing his crutches on an empty chair once he'd sat down. "How'd you sleep?" I asked, watching him carefully to see if he'd tell me the truth. He was still having nightmares. Pony said it was only a couple times a week, but I was starting to get suspicious that Soda was covering up more of them. His face was drawn and he had constant circles under his eyes; it just didn't add up if he was sleeping okay most nights.

"Fine," Soda replied, shrugging. "I would've slept better if Pony hadn't charged out of here as loud as his namesake."

I chuckled. "Yeah, he sure didn't put much effort into being quiet. Why don't you have a nap later?" I suggested meaningfully.

Soda just shrugged again. "Sure, maybe," he said noncommittally.

I wasn't convinced, but I let it go and we lapsed into silence as I finished my makeshift breakfast and grabbed a cup of coffee. Soda stared at the table, absentmindedly drawing circles on it with his finger. It was more than obvious something was bothering him. "You okay?" I finally asked, giving him the option to pass on the question. We'd all agreed he needed some space, and I was doing my best to try to give it to him.

"Did you have a funeral?" The whispered question caught me off guard and I had to move a second hand up to my coffee cup to keep from dropping it.

"What?"

I thought—hoped—that maybe I'd heard him wrong. I didn't want to relive that first conversation with Pony the morning after we'd heard Soda had disappeared. Now that Soda was back, I never wanted to remember that day again, or anything from the time he was missing.

"Did you have a funeral?" Soda repeated, a little louder this time, but with his eyes still fixed on the table.

Leaning forward, I put my face in my hands, trying to brace myself for this conversation. Selfishly, I wished I hadn't asked Soda what was wrong.

"Darry?" I lowered my hands to find Soda staring at me, his eyes searching, almost desperate.

Slowly, I shook my head. "No, Soda. We didn't. Pony—Pony didn't want one. He was sure you were still out there."

"And you?"

I swallowed hard, not sure how to answer. When Soda's things had been shipped back to us, I'd started to think that was as close to a body as we were ever going to get, but even then I hadn't been able to completely convince myself he was gone. I'd needed so badly for him to be alive, even when I hadn't thought there was any possible way it could happen.

"I don't know."

Soda nodded and looked back down at the table. "And—if I had—hadn't come back?" His voice cracked, and I reached a hand across the table to take his.

"I don't know," I answered again. I really didn't. If the war had ended and Soda still hadn't come back, we would've known for sure, but so much time would've passed. Would we have wanted to open up the wounds fresh?

Soda's fingers curled lightly around mine. "I'm sorry, Soda," I murmured.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I don't think I really expected an answer."

X X X

Please review! :) Also, I was wondering how much of Soda's recovery people want to see…do you want me to start skipping a little bit of time (nothing drastic), or would you rather I keep the pace slower and have more details?


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks for all the great reviews and feedback! Basically everyone said to keep the pace slow, and that's what I'd prefer to do anyway, so that's what I'll do. Not that it's day by day, but it won't suddenly jump two months or something. I had to read _Portrait of a Lady_ for English and I was so mad when it suddenly jumped through two years, a wedding, and a miscarriage.

This chapter follows right after the last one. I wanted to post them together, but it would've been too long for an update. I had _a lot_ of trouble with the second half of this, but I really like how it turned out.

X X X

Catch me as I fall  
Say you're here and it's all over now

~~Evanescence—Whisper

X X X

I heard the front door slam behind me and winced as I realized I'd probably woken Sodapop. I felt bad, but I reminded myself that he could have a nap later if he needed to. I was late and I needed to get to school as fast as possible, noise or no noise. As I ground to a halt at the corner and waited impatiently for a break in the traffic, I wished I'd asked Darry to drive me.

When I'd managed to duck across the street, I took off running again, hoping I could make it to school before I was too late. Most of my group for the project was middle class, but there was one soc who I knew hated me. Not that I cared what his opinion was, but we needed to get through this assignment and I doubted my being late was going to help the tension that was already there. The project was huge—we had to research the Civil War and do a full period presentation on it, making sure to cover certain topics, then we each had to hand in a fifteen page paper. The idea was that everyone took one section to research, then shared the notes with everyone else.

I finally reached the school and raced down the hall, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that I didn't run into any teachers on my way to the library. With the first bell still over forty minutes away, the halls were mostly deserted. Panting, I made my way through the deserted room and found my group at a table near the back. They glanced up and I groaned inwardly when I saw that David, the soc, was glaring at me.

"'Bout time you showed up," he sneered.

"Sorry," I apologized, throwing my backpack on the floor and plopping down in a chair, trying to catch my breath. After running the whole way from home, I was sweating and I rubbed my arm across my forehead. "My alarm didn't go off," I explained, shrugging. "I got here as fast as I could."

No one said anything and I looked around, noticing that everyone had their eyes on the table. Everyone, that is, except David, who was still glaring. "Look, I'm real sorry, guys," I apologized. "It won't happen again. Whatever part of the project you want to give me is fine. I know you probably already decided topics."

Silence. Obviously, everyone was avoiding telling me something. I focused on David and narrowed my eyes.

"You may as well know, you're outta the group, Curtis," he said.

"I'm fifteen minutes late for one meeting and you kick me out?" I couldn't believe the nerve of this guy.

"It's called responsibility and consequences," he smirked, quoting our history teacher. "You can't be responsible enough to make it here on time, you face the consequences."

"You all agree with him?" I asked in disbelief, staring around at the rest of the group. They all still avoided my gaze. "C'mon! I have the highest mark in the class and you want to kick me out just cause my alarm didn't go off?"

"Actually, _I_ have the highest mark in the class," David interjected. I wanted to punch him just to wipe the smug look off his face. No one else in the group was showing any signs of supporting me. David had the grades, money, and popularity to get whatever he wanted, and apparently what he wanted was to make sure I failed this project.

Without a word, I stood up and grabbed my backpack, keeping my eyes fixed on David the whole time. As much as I wanted to fight him right then, I knew it would just cause more problems than it would fix, and I was already going to have enough to deal with, having to do this project on my own.

I stormed out of the library, ignoring the hum of conversation that was now coming from the back corner I had just left, and headed straight to my history classroom. The door was open, so I knocked and went in. "Mr. Miller?" I asked. He was writing on the chalkboard and he turned around when he heard me.

"Ponyboy, you're here early. What can I do for you?"

I hesitated, trying to decide how to put it. "I just came from a group meeting and we're having a—difference of opinion. Is it okay if I switch to another group?"

Mr. Miller frowned. "Conflicts happen all the time in life, Ponyboy. We can't just pick up and "switch groups" every time we don't agree with people. Now, you're more than welcome to do the project on your own if you want, but I'm afraid I don't have any extra class time for presentations, so your grade will suffer."

"I can't do the presentation?" I cried, gaping at him. "But that's forty percent of the mark! Can't I at least do it after school or something?"

"Those are your choices, Mr. Curtis. Life does not rearrange itself around our problems." He went back to writing the note on the chalkboard, ending the conversation. I groaned. Darry was gonna kill me.

X X X

"Hey kid, you want a ride?" I looked up sharply, then relaxed as I recognized Two-Bit's beaten up car. It was Steve behind the wheel, Two-Bit nowhere in sight, but either way I was grateful for the ride.

"Sure," I said, throwing my bag in the backseat and hopping in the front. "Where's Two-Bit?" I asked.

"Sleeping. I don't pick up my car till tomorrow, so I borrowed his."

"Does he know?"

Steve shrugged. "I left a note." I rolled my eyes, but let the subject drop. It wasn't my problem, and besides, the fallout could be fun to watch. "It's only 1:00. Shouldn't you be in school, still?" Steve asked, glancing away from the road towards me.

I gave a shrug of my own. "My teacher was sick and I didn't feel like hanging around study hall."

"You're usually a bookworm. What's up?"

"I didn't have a lot of homework today, alright?" I snapped. Of course, that was a complete lie. Thanks to David, I now had five times the work I had before.

We were a couple blocks from my house still, but Steve slowed the car down and pulled over to the side of the road. When he'd put it in park, he turned to me and gave me a piercing stare. I squirmed under his gaze. "What's really going on?" he demanded.

I held my ground for a minute, but finally realized he wasn't going to let this go. "My history group kicked me out, which means I lose forty percent of the project mark for the presentation and I have to do all the essay research myself," I explained with a sigh.

"Why the hell would they kick you out? You're a figgin' genius."

"There's a soc in the group who apparently hates my guts. He convinced the rest of them."

"Well, that figures," Steve grumbled under his breath. "You want any help dealing with him?"

I stared at him almost in disbelief. Steve was offering to help me? "No, it's fine," I said, shaking my head. "I'm just gonna let it go. He's not gonna back down. A fight will just make it worse."

Steve shrugged and pulled the car back onto the road. "Suit yourself, kid."

X X X

As I heard the front door close behind Darry as he left for work, I slowly pulled myself up on my crutches. I was exhausted; I'd barely slept at all the night before, despite what I'd told Darry. I limped to the kitchen doorway, took one look at the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and decided it was too far. Instead, I made my way to the couch. I sat down heavily and put my face in my hands. God, why had I asked Darry about the funeral? There wasn't an answer he could've given me that would make me feel any better. But, I also hated not knowing. I'd been tempted to go by the cemetery to see if there was a third gravestone next to our parents', but I hadn't been able to think of a way to get there. I don't think I could've handled seeing it, if there had been one.

With a sigh, I lay back on the couch, being careful of my still healing ribs. It didn't hurt to lie on my back anymore, thankfully. In the first couple of weeks after I'd been rescued, it had been hell having to put my weight on the gashes. Even though the pain was gone, the marks were still glaring and I shuddered as I pictured the image.

I lay awake for a long time, thinking about what Darry had said. Had he been ready to give up on me? I could hardly blame him if he had. It still hurt, though, knowing he'd almost lost hope. My eyes started to sting and I rubbed at them, annoyed with myself. I would rather have had everyone move on than waste their lives wondering. But that didn't stop the tears.

I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to ignore my thoughts. I started counting backwards from one hundred, hoping to distract to myself. I remember getting to fifty-nine.

_Weak sunlight filtered through the half-bare treetops and shone off the wet grass. Storm clouds filled the sky to the east, moving off into the distance after their brief stop here. The wind was still strong, and I shivered as the cold breeze penetrated through my clothes to my skin. _

_Taking a closer look around me, I realized I was in a cemetery. I frowned, not sure how I'd gotten there or why I'd come. I moved a few steps forward, my footsteps strangely silent despite the fallen leaves that littered the ground. I saw a familiar fork in the road and knew I was near my parents' gravestones. I must've come here to visit them. Following the path, I started to get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Something wasn't right. I wanted to turn around and run back the way I'd come, but something pushed me forward, forcing me to keep walking to my destination._

_I rounded a corner and saw the two headstones I was looking for, but there was a small group of people in front of them. No, they weren't exactly in front of them—they were off to the side a little, staring down at something else. Moving closer, I recognized Darry, Ponyboy, Steve, and Two-Bit. Pony's and Steve's shoulders were both shaking and as I watched, Two-Bit reached a hand up to wipe at his face. There was a fifth person and I realized with a jolt that he was a priest. Someone had died. But who would we bury next to our parents?_

_I crept closer, unsure of myself. Why wasn't I there with everyone? Were they waiting for me?_

_And then I saw the headstone they were standing next to. _

_Sodapop Patrick Curtis_

_October 8, 1949-September 23, 1968_

_Beloved brother and friend._

_We'll miss you always._

_My knees gave out and I fell to the ground. This was _my_ funeral? But I was right here! _

"_Darrel?" I looked up as the priest spoke Darry's name. "Are you ready?"_

_I noticed Darry was holding a small, wooden box. He nodded, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. Ponyboy let out a sob and shook his head. Darry ignored him, but I saw his shoulders start to shake as he stepped forward and placed the box in a freshly dug hole in front of the headstone. My stuff must've been in that box. _

"_Dare…" Pony whimpered, and Darry put an arm around him as he stood back up._

"_I know, Pony," he whispered, pulling him close._

_A person I hadn't seen came forward with a shovel and started piling dirt into the hole—the grave. My grave. Except I wasn't in it._

_Slowly, my family and friends turned and started walking away. Still on my knees, frozen, I watched them go. I'd never come back home. My body had never been found and they'd buried what they had left of me. _

_I looked back to my grave. It was deserted now; the priest and gravedigger had gone. I ignored the stone, crawling instead towards my parents markers. I curled up in between them and reached out a hand, gently grazing my mother's cold stone. The tears came, fast and furious, and I didn't even try to stop them._

I sat bolt upright, and immediately doubled over onto my side as pain burned in my ribs. My cheeks were soaked and I wiped at them, sobbing more as I did. The image of my gravestone was burned into my mind. "It wasn't real," I whispered to myself. "It was just a dream. It didn't happen."

I kept repeating it over and over to myself, slowly calming down as the truth of the words took hold. I focused on trying to block out the image of everyone standing over my tombstone, saying their last goodbyes to me. It was an image I'd pictured many times when I'd been in the prison, but it had never been as clear as this dream—nightmare.

Very gradually, my breathing evened out. I stared at the wall, my mind reeling. Is that what my funeral would've been like? Would Darry and Pony have wanted it to be small like that? I could feel more tears coming as my thoughts continued down that path and I forced myself to sit up. As I did, I winced. My arms felt sore, but I wasn't sure why. I thought maybe they'd fallen asleep or something and I shook them, wincing again as they protested the movement.

I rubbed my face to wipe away the last of the tears, ignoring the pain that seemed to permeate through the muscles in my arms. Maybe they were sore from using the crutches so much. I'd been walking around more, trying to build up the muscle in my uninjured leg. My cast would be coming off in a week and I wanted to be walking normally again as soon as possible. I wanted to get back to work—I couldn't keep spending my days alone.

Groaning, I grabbed my crutches. Sugar—I needed sugar. Hopefully it would help to make the dream fade. I pulled myself to my feet and gasped as my arms made contact with the sides of the crutches. It felt like my arms were being crushed. It made no sense—my injuries were all healing. How could a new one crop up?

I did my best to ignore it and managed to get to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, I got the chocolate milk out of the fridge and poured it in. Immediately I downed half, hoping the sugar really would help. I brought the glass back up to my mouth for another drink, but it suddenly slipped from my fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering. Chocolate milk spilled down my sweater as the glass fell, the rest making a soggy mess on the floor. Confused, I raised my hand and watched it shake as if I'd just guzzled coffee instead of chocolate milk. My stomach started to twist into a knot. What the hell was going on?

Before I could puzzle through what was happening, I realized the milk was starting to soak through my shirt. I sat down in a kitchen chair and leaned my crutches against the table, then moved to take my sweater off. As soon as I started, I stopped. The second the material rubbed against my arm, my skin pulsed with pain. I tried again, and the same thing happened. I had to get the sweater off, though.

Bracing myself, I moved to take it off again, determined to finish this time. As I slowly pulled it off, invisible pressure pushed down against my skin and I gasped. I kept going, doing my best to ignore the pain. When the sweater was off, I threw it to the side. I glared at it, futilely wishing that it would just fall into a hole and disappear. When my death glare didn't succeed in destroying the sweater, I turned my focus to my arms, trying to see what the problem was. They looked the same as before, still covered in scars…

It suddenly dawned on me. This was the nerve damage the doctors had warned me about. Numbness, weakness, and tingling didn't come anywhere close to describing it, though. The pain penetrated right through my arms, magnifying whenever anything touched them.

A car door slammed outside, followed by another, and my gaze flew to the door. There was milk and glass all over the floor and I didn't have a shirt on. I didn't want anyone to see the scars. It was stupid—everyone knew they were there, but they were easier to ignore if no one was staring at them. I grabbed my crutches and started making my way to the hallway, hissing as they touched my skin. I hadn't gone more than a few steps before the front door opened and Pony came in, followed by Steve. Pony quickly took in the scene and his eyes grew wide with concern.

"Soda, what happened?" he asked, rushing over.

"Nothing," I muttered, moving towards the hall again. "I just dropped a glass."

He came up beside me and I saw his eyes widen more as he caught sight of my back. I groaned inwardly, remembering that he hadn't seen it yet. He blocked off my path. "Soda, go sit down. I'll get you a new shirt."

I shook my head. "I can get it," I insisted. I didn't need to be treated like an invalid on top of everything else. I started forward again, but Pony put out a hand to stop me. He lightly touched my arm and flinched away as a sharp pain flared. Pony pulled his hand back and I cringed at the hurt look on his face.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and moved aside so I could get by.

I sighed and turned around, heading for the couch. "Get a t-shirt," I said quietly. I didn't want anything more than necessary touching my arms. I heard Steve softly tell Pony to follow me, then heard his own footsteps move off down the hall. I sat down on the couch, keeping my arms out of contact with everything possible. I felt Pony sit down next to me, making sure to keep a couple feet away. We sat in silence until Steve came back with a clean shirt. I put it on as carefully as I could, but I knew the pain was showing on my face.

"Soda?" Pony asked tentatively.

Everything suddenly became too much. The pain still ached in my arms, bringing back memories of what had caused it. My dream came back to me, and in my mind's eye I saw my headstone, the freshly dug earth, everyone walking away. I felt the tears come, and I quickly wiped them away. "It wasn't you, Pone," I whispered, fighting for control of my voice.

I saw the confusion on his face and I realized I'd have to tell him what was wrong, at least part of it. "It's my arms. The doctors said I might have nerve damage cause of…cause of what happened. When you touched me, it felt like you pinched me."

"Is it gonna go away?" he asked, my own fear reflected in his voice.

I shook my head. "I don't know. I think so. I hope so."

"It will, Soda," Steve said confidently. "It wouldn't just start up now and then stay. It would've been there this whole time if it was permanent." I nodded, letting myself believe him. This had to go away.

I reached out and slipped my hand into Pony's, giving a small smile when he responded. My arms still hurt, but my hand felt okay, and I tightened my grip, needing the contact. "Do you have to go back to school?" I asked him. He shook his head, and I gave a small sigh of relief. I didn't want to be alone, especially not right now.

X X X

A/N- Please tell me someone cried during Soda's dream. I was so close to tears writing it.

I have to say, Soda's nerve pain was really hard to describe. It's actually something I've experienced and it's really not fun. I hated doing that to him, but it's also a real after effect of what he went through.

And, I know headstones are not generally present at funerals (they take time to be engraved, etc.), but it was a dream.

Please review!


	17. Chapter 17

Hope you enjoy the chapter! I get the immense pleasure *cough* of working a 12 hour shift tomorrow, and I must say it would be wonderful to come home to reviews. *hint hint*

X X X

I'll give you shelter out of the rain  
I'll make a good day out of the pain  
And if you got a long way down, I'll feel the same  
I'll give you shelter, out of the rain

~~Hedley—Shelter

X X X

"Ponyboy, you get the mail already?" I asked, coming in the front door after finding the mailbox empty. Ponyboy was sitting at the kitchen table with his homework spread out around him. He looked up as I came in and nodded to the counter.

"Mail's over there. Nothin' interesting." I leafed through the pile and quickly agreed with him. I tossed the junk mail into the trash and put the bills aside to deal with later, then went to the stove to investigate the pot that was steaming away. Lifting up the lid, I found chopped carrots. "There's chicken and potatoes in the oven," Pony said. "It'll be done in a few minutes."

"Sounds good." I poured myself a glass of milk and had a seat at the table. Pony was chewing on the end of his pencil and watching me, his homework apparently forgotten. "Everything okay, Pone?"

Pony was quiet for a minute; he seemed to be thinking carefully about what he was going to say. I felt a headache coming on, realizing that whatever he had to tell me would probably bring my hopes for a nice, quiet evening crashing down.

"Steve drove me home from school today," he started. "When we got here, we found Soda…he was…"

"Is Soda okay?" I asked, worried. I'd debated leaving him alone this morning, not sure how well he'd deal with the conversation we'd had. In the end, though, he'd insisted he was fine.

"I don't know," Pony said uncertainly.

"You don't know? Where is he?"

"He's asleep. Or at least that's what he said he was gonna do."

I let out a breath. At least whatever the problem was, it wasn't life threatening. "So, what happened when you got home?"

Pony hesitated, almost like he wasn't sure if he should tell me, but there was no way in hell I was going to let him keep any secrets for Soda. Soda had closed up enough on his own; he didn't need any help doing it more.

"Pony?" I prompted, my voice firm.

"He said it was nerve damage," Pony said quietly.

I had tried to brace myself for whatever had happened, but I didn't know what to do with this statement. "What're you talking about?" I asked, staring at my brother in confusion.

"His arms—they were hurting. He couldn't have anything touch them without pain. When Steve and I came home, he'd taken off his shirt cause he'd dropped a glass of milk on it. He could barely get a clean shirt on. It was bad, Darry."

The fear was clear in Pony's eyes. Sodapop was everything to him, and I knew this was killing him almost as much as Soda's disappearance had. "You said he's asleep now?" I asked. Pony shrugged, and I knew he was thinking exactly what I was: that Soda was hiding.

Getting up, I headed down the hallway to my brothers' room. I knocked softly on the door, but got no response. Keeping in mind that Soda might really be asleep and not wanting to wake him, especially knowing he was still having nightmares, I cracked open the door as quietly as I could. I was less than surprised when I found him sitting up in bed, wide awake. His arms hung limply by his sides and I nodded to them as I took a seat on the end of the bed.

"How do they feel?" I asked.

"Pony told you," Soda stated, and I nodded. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "It's better than it was. Still hurts, but it's not too bad if I keep them away from everything."

"Pony said it was nerve damage." I hesitated before asking my next question. "Soda, did you know this was going to happen?" I couldn't see how he could know that term unless someone had told him about it.

He shrugged. "The doctors didn't say it would be this bad. They didn't really say much of anything helpful," he added bitterly.

His eyes were downcast and I took the opportunity to study his arms. They were still covered in ugly looking scars. I'd hoped they would heal, but I began to realize they would never do anything more than fade; they would always be there.

"Soda, what happened?" I asked gently. "What did this?"

His face darkened and I saw him visibly tense up. There was a few minutes of silence and I sighed. Deciding he wasn't going to say anything, I stood up and headed for the door, but stopped when Soda suddenly spoke. "Rope," he whispered. I waited for more, but he stayed quiet.

I took in a deep breath, trying to remind myself not to push him. "It's okay," I murmured, sitting back down and taking hold of his hand. He didn't pull back and I gave it a small squeeze. "Pony made dinner," I said, offering a change in topic. "You hungry?"

Soda's eyes slowly raised to meet mine and he nodded. I handed him his crutches and followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Ponyboy was just pulling dinner out of the oven and he smiled as he saw both of us come in. "Feeling better, Soda?" he asked.

Soda nodded mutely and sat down. He rested his arms on the table and I saw him wince before quickly moving them down to his sides. Pony threw me a concerned look and I gave a slight shake of my head, telling him not to bring up the subject. He still looked worried, but he nodded and started putting food onto three plates.

"So, Steve's moving on Sunday," Pony said as he handed Soda a plate and sat down with his own.

Soda brightened and nodded. "You two are still helping, right?"

Lifting heavy boxes was the last thing I wanted to do on my day off, but Steve had done too much for Sodapop for me to say no. "Yeah, of course we are," I answered.

The rest of the meal was spent talking about Steve's move and Two-Bit's new job. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the idea of him actually being productive, but the job seemed to be sticking. Pony had shoved aside his homework while we ate and as I cleared away the plates, he pulled it back towards himself. He seemed to be doing more staring than reading, though, and he was chewing on the end of his pencil again.

Soda must've noticed Pony's difficulty concentrating, too. "What's wrong, Pone?" he asked. From the way he asked, I could tell he was as in the dark as I was, which at least meant it probably wasn't about himself.

Pony glanced at me nervously. I sat down, sensing that something I didn't want to hear was coming. "Spit it out, Pony," I said sternly.

He took the pencil out of his mouth and starting fiddling with it, watching it intently. "My history group kicked me out," he finally admitted.

"Why'd they do that?" Soda asked.

"There's this soc, David, who hates me and he convinced the rest of the group to do it."

"Okay, fine," I said calmly. "So find another group. Problem solved."

"My teacher won't let me switch. He said all the other groups are full."

"Then do the project on your own." I could hear the tension starting to creep into my voice. I'd seen his course syllabus and knew this project was worth a lot. Ponyboy was too stubborn to try to get back into his old group, and I doubted it would work even if he tried.

"I can do the essay, but Mr. Miller won't let me do the presentation without a group. There's not enough class time."

"And how much of the project is the presentation worth?"

"Forty percent," Pony mumbled.

"So you're telling me you just lost ten percent of your course mark?" I asked, my voice rising.

"It wasn't my fault!" Pony cried. "David's got it out for me! When I was late for the meeting today he used it to throw me out."

"Pony, you need these marks for colleges! Why weren't you more careful with your alarm?" Just when I thought the kid might actually be using his head, he went and pulled something like this.

"I said I'm sorry! What more do you want? For me to build a time machine?"

"C'mon, guys," Soda spoke up. I looked over to find him watching me, his eyes pleading with me to drop the subject.

I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "Fine," I growled, standing up to grab my car keys and tossing them to Ponyboy. "You'd better get to the library. You've got a lot of work to do."

Pony's mouth dropped open as the keys landed on the table in front of him. "It's almost eight! The library closes in an hour!"

"Then that's an hour of research you can get started on."

Pony took the keys and grabbed his books. He stalked towards the front door, muttering something under his breath I was sure I didn't want to hear.

"Pony, wait," Soda protested. "Darry, it's late. Can't he just start tomorrow? What's the point of him spending half an hour driving there and back right now?" I studied Soda's face and sighed. He looked tired, whether from the fighting or from lack of sleep I wasn't sure, but I knew sending Pony out of the house right then wasn't going to help either.

"Alright," I relented. "Tomorrow is fine. But you'd better go there right after school," I ordered. Pony threw the keys back to me, using more force than necessary, and immediately went to his room. Sodapop gave me a grateful smile.

X X X

"You got it, Two-Bit?"

"Yeah, Darry, I got it. Let's go already." I groaned as Darry and I lifted up Steve's dresser and started to carry it into Evie's apartment. He didn't have a lot of furniture, but what he did have seemed heavier than normal. Maybe I was just tired; I'd worked every night this week, something I sure wasn't used to.

After depositing the dresser in a corner of the bedroom, I went into the living room and collapsed on the sofa next to Sodapop. "Having fun, Two-Bit?" he asked, throwing me a wide grin.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right. If you ask me, Steve should've stayed put."

"Aren't you the one who convinced him to move in?"

"That was before I realized I'd have to _help_," I grumbled.

"C'mon, Two-Bit," Ponyboy complained as he came into the room and dumped a box on the floor. "There's still more stuff to unload."

"Aww, Pony, I've been working all week," I protested, leaning back and draping my arms across the back of the couch.

"So was Darry, and I've been at the library all week, so get off your ass and help out."

I groaned and looked at Sodapop. "How'd Steve get so much stuff, anyway?"

"I guess nineteen years of stuff adds up," he shrugged. "You'd better get helping or Steve won't give you any pizza later." I glared, but he just brushed it off with a grin. It was good to see him happy, anyway, even if it was at my expense.

When the last of Steve's things were finally moved in, Evie ordered the pizza and pulled out pop and beer. Though I would do anything for Steve, the free food and booze was the main reason I'd agreed to get up early and help out.

"So, Sodapop, when do you get your cast off?" Evie asked as we all found seats. I noticed Ponyboy made a point of sitting next to Soda.

"In a couple days," he answered, grinning.

"That soon?"

"The doctors said it was a pretty clean break." His smile dropped some. I saw his eyes grow distant and I jumped into the conversation.

"How 'bout going back to work?" I asked. "You know, actually earning your keep like the rest of us?"

"You've been working for what, two weeks, Two-Bit?" Steve raised an eyebrow at me and I threw a potato chip at him.

Soda's smile returned as Steve tossed the chip back at me. "Hopefully I can start work again in a couple weeks."

"_If_ the doctor says you're ready," Darry pointed out, and Soda rolled his eyes.

"I'll be ready. It'll just be in the store part till I can walk without the crutches."

"You're still gonna need crutches?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, for a little while, till my leg muscle builds up more."

"How long'll that take?" Evie asked.

Soda shrugged. "Till it does, I guess. I'll just be happy to be able to shower without having to deal with the cast."

"You should bring the cast home and burn it," I laughed. Soda's face instantly went pale. "I was just joking, buddy," I said, trying unsuccessfully to back pedal.

Soda gave me a weak smile, one that noticeably didn't reach his eyes. "I think I'll just let the doctor throw it in the trash," he said quietly.

Evie quickly steered the conversation to a new topic, but the damage was done. Soda stayed quiet for the rest of the afternoon, smiling at some of our jokes, but never really joining in again. I saw Steve subtly shake his head at Darry, indicating that he didn't know what was wrong, either. It didn't make any sense to me; Soda didn't have any burn marks, but obviously something about my comment was bothering him. I just wished he would tell us what.

X X X

"How long does it take to get a cast off?" Ponyboy grumbled beside me.

"Relax, kiddo. You got somewhere better to be?"

Pony didn't say anything. I figured he was thinking of the library and how relieved he was to get away from it for a while. I'd been riding him hard to make sure he aced what was left of his history project, not to mention his other subjects to balance out the lost marks, and I knew he was sick of it. I'd almost asked him to bring his books to the hospital so he could work while we waited for Soda, but I'd thought better of it at the last minute; no need to start a battle that Soda would once again get trapped in.

Pony sighed and wandered over to the vending machine. When he came back, he had a bag of chips open and he held it out to me as he sat down.

"Thanks," I said, taking a small handful. "Pone, how's Soda sleeping? Is he still having nightmares?"

He thought for a minute before answering. "Yeah, I still wake up sometimes from them. But it hasn't been that long, yet. He's only been home for a month." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as me.

"I took you to a doctor long before that," I pointed out.

Pony paused with a chip halfway to his mouth. "Are you thinking of doing that? Taking him to a doctor?"

"I think we have to. You said his nightmares wake you up sometimes. Do you really think he's sleeping fine the nights they don't wake you up?" I studied Pony's face and I could tell right away he agreed with me.

"I know he's not. But he won't admit it. He won't talk to me about anything."

"Stay here a minute," I said, standing up. I walked over the nurses desk, figuring it couldn't hurt to at least get some information.

"Can I help you?" the nurse who was on duty asked. She eyed me wearily, probably expecting an impatient question about when Soda would be finished.

"I was hoping to get some information about a psychiatrist. Does the hospital have one on staff?" I'd heard that Pony's therapist had moved out of town and I didn't know of any others off hand.

The woman looked caught off guard for a second, but then she grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down a name. She handed it to me and I read, "Dr. Lockhart, 4th floor."

"Do you know how much he charges?" I asked.

She looked me up and down before answering and I glowered at her silent insinuation. "If you're not covered by insurance, I believe it's around twenty dollars an hour."

I cringed, but nodded and walked back towards Ponyboy. "Well?" he asked as I sat down.

"I got the name of the hospital therapist. I don't know if Soda will agree to go or not. If he won't talk to us, I'm not sure he'll talk to a total stranger."

"At least he doesn't have to see the stranger every day. Maybe that would make it easier," Pony suggested hopefully.

A door near the end of the hallway opened and I shoved the paper into my pocket as Sodapop came out. He was still using his crutches and he was clearly favoring his right leg, but he was grinning from ear to ear. "Looking good, little buddy," I smiled, examining his leg.

"Can you walk on it?" Pony asked.

"A little." Soda demonstrated, putting a bit of weight on his leg as he moved through the lobby with us. His face tightened with the strain, but he seemed to be managing it okay.

"Remember, don't go trying to walk without the crutches for a few days," the doctor reminded him. "And keep unsupported distances short until you build your strength back up."

"I know. I'll be careful," Soda promised. I knew he would be; he wanted the doctor's approval for going back to work, and he wouldn't get it if he messed his leg up worse.

Soda signed some papers at the nurses' desk and then turned to go the elevator. I thought about mentioning the doctor to him, but as I saw him laughing and joking with Ponyboy, I changed my mind. He deserved this moment; my own worries could wait until later.


	18. Chapter 18

Sorry once again for the delay in updating. :( But, it's Good Fic Day, so I made a concerted effort to get a chapter up. And according to my time, I still have 40 minutes!

Thank you again for the review. :) They always make me so happy!

And thank you to ConfuzzledAtLife for pointing out the deletion of my page breaks. I have changed them in this chapter to Xs (I really liked my old ones though :( ) and will begin the process of changing all my other chapters, too. *sigh*

X X X

How long have I been in this storm?

So overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form

Water's getting harder to tread

With these waves crashing over my head

~~Lifehouse-Storm

X X X

"Pony, do we still have sprinkles anywhere?"

I looked over from the freezer to see Soda rummaging through the cupboards. On the counter in front of him sat a huge bowl of chocolate and vanilla ice cream, which was already covered in chunks of brownie and chocolate sauce.

"Soda, you're gonna be sick if you eat that whole thing," I pointed out. "And the sprinkles are in the next cupboard down."

"You worry too much, Pony," Soda said, brushing off my remark as he shuffled over a couple of steps, using the counter to support his weight; his crutches lay to the side. His cast had been off for a few hours now and he was clearly loving the freedom. I hadn't seen him smile so much since he'd come home; it almost felt like we had back the Sodapop we'd lost.

"You gonna eat all that?" Darry asked as he came into the kitchen, eyeing Soda's bowl with a slightly nauseous look on his face.

"Why, you want some?" Soda asked, putting the sprinkles away.

Darry grimaced and shook his head. "I think I'll stick with a sandwich," he muttered. I laughed as Darry started pulling things out of the fridge. "You want one, Pony?"

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

As Soda pulled a spoon out of the drawer and grabbed his crutches, I picked up his "dinner" and followed him into the living room. "Thanks, Pony," he said, settling onto the couch and taking the bowl from me. He'd suggested watching a movie tonight, something that had surprised both me and Darry. He'd never been much interested in them, but neither of us was going to argue with it if it made him happy.

I flipped the T.V. on and found a channel that usually had movies on in the evening. It was already a few minutes into it, but I hardly noticed. I was watching Sodapop, who was happily digging into his sundae. Having the cast off really seemed to have cheered him up. I supposed it was one less reminder of what had happened.

Darry came in and handed me a sandwich, then sat down on the other side of Soda. I began to recognize the movie as _North by Northwest_ and despite having seen it before, I started to get lost in the story. Even Soda was sitting through it. When the credits came on at the end, I glanced over and discovered why Soda had been so still. He was leaning against Darry, fast asleep, his head resting on our brother's shoulder. "How long's he been like that?" I asked, carefully getting up to turn the T.V. off.

"Almost an hour," Darry whispered, his arm around Soda.

"He slept through almost the whole movie?"

"I don't think he ever really cared about watching the movie, Pone."

I realized Darry was right. I'd been spending most of my time doing homework and Darry had been working a lot lately, too. Soda had just used the movie as an excuse to pull us away from that stuff. Too bad he hadn't been awake long enough to enjoy much of it.

"At least he's resting," Darry murmured. As we watched, Soda shifted slightly and nestled closer to Darry. He looked peaceful, something I hadn't seen in a long time. "You should get to bed," Darry said softly. "You've got school tomorrow."

I stretched and stood up, watching as Darry gently slipped an arm under Soda's legs and lifted him up. I followed down the hallway to our room and pulled back the covers to let Darry place Soda on the bed. With the cast, Soda had found it simpler to keep wearing track pants and he'd thankfully kept them on when we'd gotten home from the hospital. Most of the time he was still jumpy when it came to people touching him and I doubted he would take too well to the idea of us changing his clothes.

I got myself settled in bed and smiled at Darry as he turned to leave. He'd been on my case all week about my schoolwork, but he seemed to have made a point of not mentioning it tonight, and I was thankful for that. "Night, Dare."

"Night, Pony," he said softly before turning off the light and closing the door.

X X X

Something wasn't right—there was too much movement beside me. I groaned and rolled over, trying to ignore it. I was tired and just wanted to go back to sleep. Noise joined the movement, a soft moaning sound. I was suddenly wide awake as I realized Soda was having another nightmare.

I rolled back over to find Soda shifting restlessly, his face scrunched up in pain or fear. "Soda," I called, gently shaking his shoulder. "Sodapop, you need to wake up."

He responded with a whimper, his face tightening up further.

"C'mon, Soda," I pleaded, starting to get desperate. I didn't want to use too much force waking him up in case it scared him worse. "Soda!" I called again, louder this time, and finally got a response.

His eyes opened wide and locked on mine, pure terror shining in them. "Pony?" he whispered.

"Yeah, it's me, Soda," I soothed, carefully reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. He didn't even seem to notice the contact. "It's okay, it was just a dream."

"Yeah, I know," he whispered, breathing heavily. After a few minutes, Soda started to calm down some and rolled over, his back to me. "Sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep Pony," he said softly.

I drew my hand back, but I stayed propped up on an elbow, hesitating. Darry was right—we had to do something.

"Soda, maybe you should see someone. You know, to talk about everything."

Soda rolled back over to face me and even in the dim glow of the streetlight I could see his face harden. "You mean a doctor? A shrink?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It might help," I said, trying to encourage him.

"I'm fine, Pony," Soda insisted, his voice tense. "It's just a few nightmares."

"It's not just a few nightmares, Soda. I don't think you've slept through the night once since you've got home, have you?" He stayed silent, and I knew we'd guessed at the truth. "If you won't talk to us, you need to talk to someone," I pleaded.

"I don't need to see anyone." He turned away again.

"Soda…"

"Go back to sleep, Ponyboy," he nearly growled.

I froze at the tone of his voice, startled, but quickly shook myself out of it. "I'm not tired," I grumbled. Sitting up, I grabbed a pair of socks and left the room. I headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge, searching for anything that looked good. Finding nothing, I slammed it closed and moved on to the cupboards. I sifted through cans of soup and packages of crackers, but nothing looked appetizing. The problem was, I wasn't actually hungry.

"What's going on, Pony?"

I whirled around to find Darry standing in the doorway, blinking at the light and clearly still half asleep.

"What're you doing up?" I asked. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, deciding it would have to do.

"I heard you banging around in here. Came to make sure everything was okay."

"Everything's fine," I lied. "Sorry I woke you."

"Well, you better keep it down or you're gonna wake Soda, too."

"He's awake," I said shortly.

Darry's face darkened. "Another nightmare?"

I nodded and he sighed. "Maybe I should go talk to him."

"He's not in a very receptive mood."

"What do you mean?" Darry asked, stifling a yawn.

"I asked him about going to a doctor. He rejected the idea pretty fast."

His expression suddenly became more alert. "You told him about the doctor?" he cried. "Right after he had a nightmare? What were you thinking, Ponyboy?"

"I was just trying to help!" I retorted. "It was your idea in the first place."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have told him about it right now! Of course he's not going to listen when he's upset!"

"God, I'm sorry, Darry, alright?" I slammed my glass down on the table and brushed past him, heading back to bed. It seemed like I couldn't do anything right.

When I opened the door, Soda stayed still, but his breathing was too uneven for him to be asleep. I watched him for a minute, debating on whether or not to say anything. I sighed and decided there wasn't any point. He wasn't going to listen, not right now, anyway.

X X X

I stirred my bowl of cereal, watching as the Cheerios slowly expanded and eventually puffed out into a soggy clump. I hadn't been hungry all day. I kept replaying Darry and Pony's argument from the night before; they'd never been good about keeping their voices down. I couldn't stop thinking about what my brothers were suggesting.

They didn't understand. Everyone said I was lucky to have escaped with my life when so many soldiers didn't. But they didn't understand that there were days when the memories of what happened possessed me, eating away at my mind till I couldn't think of anything else. They didn't understand that there were days I wish I _had_ died. They couldn't understand that going to a doctor wouldn't solve anything.

Despite being wide awake, I'd stayed in bed till after Darry and Pony had left the house. I wasn't sure they would risk bringing the subject up again, but I knew I'd snap if they did. The last thing I wanted was to talk to some stranger about what had happened.

The door slammed and I looked up to see Pony coming in the front door. He was watching me carefully, obviously wondering if I was still mad. As long as he let the whole shrink idea go, I wasn't planning on holding it against him. I had enough to be angry about without adding more things to the list.

"Hi, Pony," I greeted, pulling out the chair next to me as a peace offering. I wasn't used to having tension between us and I didn't like it.

Pony sat down, looking relieved. "You gonna eat that?" he asked, eyeing the Cheerios that were now nothing more than mush.

I smiled a little and pushed the bowl away. "No. Two-Bit's coming by soon to take me to the DX. I'm gonna talk to my boss, see when I can start work again. You wanna come?"

"I dunno. I've got a lot of work left to do on that history project," he said, making a face.

"C'mon," I prodded. "We'll be back before Darry's home." He still looked hesitant, so I added, "Please, Pony?" I felt like I'd hardly seen him the past week.

He smiled, and I knew he'd given in. "Well, since you said please …" he said, laughing.

Just then, Two-Bit came in the front door and bounced into the kitchen. "You ready, Sodapop?"

I grabbed my crutches and stood up. "Yeah. Ponyboy's gonna come, too."

"Sounds good," He grabbed Pony in a headlock, who quickly wriggled out of it and shoved Two-Bit away from him. I moved after them more slowly, trying to put as much weight on my leg as I could without hurting it. It was sore, but there was no longer the sharp, stabbing pain from a few weeks ago. Most of the problem now was building my muscles back up, so I figured the more walking I did, the better.

When we got to the DX, Steve came out to join us. He was scowling and I cocked my head to the side as I got out of the car. "What's up, Steve?"

"Brad's inside. I told him you were coming. Ryerson's in there, too."

I groaned, realizing why Steve was in a bad mood. Mr. Ryerson was the owner of our DX. Most of the time he left the place up to Brad to run, but when he decided to come around for a visit, he was always a pain in the ass. He was never happy with anything we did and it wasn't hard to tell that he didn't think much of us. He was a Soc through and through and we were nothing more than the lackeys making him money.

I thought about leaving and coming back later, but Ryerson had already spotted me and was coming outside. Brad followed behind him, his face tense. He hated Ryerson as much as we did.

"So, you're back too, are you?" he asked, glancing at me with disdain. "How come he's started work already and you haven't?" He jerked his head towards Steve.

I motioned to my crutches; I tightened my hold on them, using them to occupy my hands so I wouldn't punch him. "I had a small problem with walking," I spat. _Not to mention being beaten almost to death,_ I added to myself.

"It's good to see you, Sodapop," Brad spoke up, smiling at me. "When are you coming back, anyway? We miss you around here."

"I was hoping for next week, if you've got the space." I knew it was short notice, but I was desperate to get back to some sort of normal life.

"You gonna be ready that soon?" Ryerson asked, looking me up and down. I cringed, suddenly feeling like an object on display. I knew my reputation at the DX. Pony had written me just after I'd left and told me how there weren't so many girls hanging around it anymore. Ryerson didn't give a rat's ass about whether or not I was ready; all he wanted to know was if I'd still bring in customers like I used to.

I felt torn between wanting to attack Ryerson and wanting o run as far and fast as I could. I tried not to shrink back from his penetrating gaze. My winter coat mostly hid the fact that I still had weight to gain back, but I knew my face was still pale and I was sure there were circles under my eyes from not sleeping. I wasn't planning on letting this guy's lust for money lose me a job, though. "I'll be fine," I said, my jaw clenched. "I'll have a doctor's note to prove it."

"I'll pencil you onto the schedule for next week, then," Brad said, doing his best to ignore Ryerson's attitude. "What day were you thinking?"

"I have a doctor's appointment Wednesday, so maybe Thursday?" I suggested hopefully. The sooner, the better.

Ryerson gave me one last glare before huffing and walking off towards his car. Steve glared after him and I could almost see him fighting the urge to go over and clock the guy. Two-Bit looked like he was thinking along the same lines. Brad clapped Steve on the back, probably hoping to distract him. "Thursday it is, then. Steve here is already working that day and I'll drop in to make sure you're doing okay. I'll need that doctor's note Wednesday, though. I can't let you start without it."

"Don't worry, I'll bring it by," I assured him.

He smiled at me and turned to Ponyboy. "So, any chance your little brother'll be joining us in the future?"

Pony had been silently watching the exchange, waiting for our cues for what to do. He relaxed and shook his head at Brad's question. "Nah, I'm not so good with cars. I already have a job, anyway."

As the guys talked, Brad discreetly bowed out of the conversation and came to stand next to me. "You really gonna be okay to come back so soon?" he asked quietly. He was studying me carefully, but with concern rather than scrutiny.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

I would make sure I was fine. And if I wasn't, I would fake it.

X X X

Please review!


	19. Chapter 19

Once again, sorry for the lack of updating. :( This chapter is short, but it was very important for me to update today, even though it's almost midnight. It was a year ago today (July 6th) that I thought of and started writing this story, so I really wanted to get a chapter up. It's sort of a half a chapter, but it's better than nothing. :)

X X X

How many times can I break till I shatter?

~~ OAR—Shattered

X X X

Steam greeted me as I turned the shower off and pulled the curtain back. I smiled, relishing briefly in the feel of a hot shower. Any shower I'd gotten in 'Nam had been cold, and even being back for a month, I was still getting used to some of the comforts of home.

"Mmm…morning."

Evie's soft hands wrapped around my bare chest, gently forcing me back against her. I groaned as her hands slowly made their way down my chest to the towel wrapped around my waist, her lips trailing along my shoulder at the same time—a much better perk of being home than a hot shower.

"Baby, I've gotta leave in a couple minutes," I mumbled.

She pulled back, pouting. "Can't you be late?"

"Not today. It's Soda's first day back. I have to pick him up." I turned around and brought her in for a kiss. "But don't forget what you were thinking. I don't have to go anywhere tonight."

"Don't worry, I'll be here." She smiled wickedly before moving off to grab a towel for her own shower. "How's Sodapop doing?"

I sighed, not sure how to answer. "He seems like he's doing okay. Not great, but okay."

She paused and turned to me. "Do you believe him?"

Slowly, I shook my head. "No, I don't."

"You should talk to him, try to get him to open up a bit."

"It's not that easy," I said, putting away my towel and pulling my clothes on. "I've tried. We've all tried. Every time we bring up the subject, he shuts down."

"It won't hurt to keep trying," she persisted. "If he thinks you've stopped bothering, he'll never talk."

I sighed again, tired of the subject. I didn't have a clue how to help my best friend. "Sure, I'll try." She smiled at me, then stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain across.

When I got to the Curtis', I found all three brothers sitting at the kitchen table. Darry was staring intently at Soda, whose face was pale and drawn. When Soda saw me, he immediately got up and grabbed his crutches.

"You sure you're ready?" Darry asked, standing up, too.

"For the hundredth time, Darry, I'm sure!" Soda was already halfway to the door, clearly planning to go to work whether Darry liked it or not.

I glanced between Soda's retreating back and Darry and Pony, surprised by the resentment in Soda's voice. The front door slammed, followed by a car door a few seconds later.

"Did something happen?" I asked, turning to the remaining brothers.

"Soda had another nightmare," Pony spoke up. "I got him to wake up but…it was only midnight and I don't think he got back to sleep again."

"He still won't talk about them?"

Darry sighed and rubbed his face. "No, we can't get anything out of him. We asked him about going to a doctor, but…"

"He didn't react well?" I guessed when Darry didn't finish the sentence. He nodded. "I'll keep an eye on him today, Darry. He'll be fine." I tried to offer a reassuring smile, but I was sure I failed miserably.

X X X

I slammed the front door behind me in frustration. Darry had pestered me all through breakfast about how tired I looked. He'd wanted me to call into work and cancel, but I told him there was no way. I'd hardly slept all night and I knew I looked worse today than normal, but it was more than that. Darry didn't think I was ready to go back to work. I couldn't stay home, though. I couldn't spend another day trapped and alone. I waited impatiently for Steve to come out to the car Going back to work would be something normal, and I didn't want to wait for it any longer than I had to.

When he finally joined me and pulled onto the street, I let out a breath of relief. The drive was quiet; I felt Steve glance over at me a few times, but I ignored it. I was sure Darry had talked to him and the last thing I wanted was another comment on how there was no rush to get back to work.

"You ready?" he asked as he pulled up to the building.

I took a deep breath and nodded. I took my time getting out of the car, suddenly not in a big hurry to go inside. I smiled when I saw Brad come out. He waved at us, then headed across the lot to have a quick smoke before the place opened. We followed him, Steve pulling out a cigarette and lighting up as he went.

"You mind, Steve?" I gestured to his pack. A look of surprise crossed his face before he held the pack out to me.

"I haven't seen ya smoke since we got back," he commented, sitting down on an overturned milk crate.

I fixed my gaze on the ground. "It kinda hurt my ribs," I admitted. I'd nicked Pony's smokes a couple of times when I'd been home alone, but it had been too long since I'd smoked and the burning pain I'd gotten from coughing hadn't been worth it.

"So, what's it been like around here?" I asked, trying to change the subject. "Anything different?"

Brad shrugged. "Not really. Went through a few mechanics while you guys were gone. Everything is pretty much the same, though. You're just sticking to cash for now, right? I don't want you running around on that leg."

"Don't worry. I'll make Steve do all the running." I grinned at Steve, who shot a glare my direction.

After a few more minutes of light banter, Brad looked at his watch and stood up. "Better get going, guys. Steve and I followed him in the door. The coat hooks were on the right all and I paused, watching Brad hang his jacket up.

"You okay, Soda?" Steve asked, frowning.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little slow still—don't want to get in the way."

He looked unconvinced, but let it go and went out front with Brad. I hesitated for a minute, thinking about leaving my jacket on. I'd tried to find a long sleeved shirt that would go under my DX vest, but I hadn't had any luck. I'd convinced myself that a t-shirt would be fine, that no one would care about the scars, but now I was having trouble believing it.

"Soda! Customer!" Steve called.

The heat was running and I knew there was no way I could keep my jacket on all day. Taking a deep breath, I slipped the jacket off, hung it up, and headed up front. Steve was out at the pumps, leaving me alone with the girl standing in front of the counter. I recognized her as one of the girls who used to hang out at the DX when I was working. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

"Sodapop, you're back!" She flashed me a smile. I did my best to return it, and from the way her smile widened, I knew I must've succeeded.

"Hey, Jenny. What can I get ya?"

"What, no 'How are you?' I haven't seen you for months!" She was practically gushing and I tried not to shudder as I realized she wanted to flirt. How many other girls would come in with the same idea?

"Sorry, Jenny," I apologized, trying to act normal. "How are you?"

"I've been good! It hasn't been the same around here without you, though." She pouted and leaned forward on the counter. Her eyes moved over my body and slowly changed from playful to concerned. "How are you, Soda?" All signs of flirting were suddenly gone from her voice.

"I'm fine. What can I get you?" I asked again quietly.

"Just a coffee." She fumbled in her purse for some coins and dropped them on the counter. As I handed over the hot drink, I heard a small gasp. Her gaze was fixed on the scars running around my wrists. I drew my hand back, leaving the coins on the counter, and turned back to the coffee machine, pretending to fix something.

Jenny didn't say another word and a couple seconds later, I heard the bell on the door ding, telling me she'd left. I turned back around to face the empty store. With shaking hands, I scooped the coins off the counter and deposited them in the till.

Sure, I was fine. I was just fine.


	20. Chapter 20

Wow—I am so, so sorry for not updating for so long. I've been busy and just flat out exhausted. Between playing host for most of the summer for my mom's friends visiting from out of country, work, and moving out, I haven't had the energy to write. Moving sucks.

But I swear I have not and _will not_ abandon this fic. I've worked too damn hard on it. I'd actually say the story is only about half way done.

Thank you to everyone who is still reading!

X X X

When you feel all alone  
And a loyal friend is hard to find  
You're caught in a one way street  
With the monsters in your head  
When hopes and dreams are far away  
And you feel like you can't face the day  
Let me be the one you call  
If you jump I'll break your fall

~~Savage Garden-Crash and Burn

X X X

"See you later, Mrs. Janney!" I waved as one of our regulars pulled away. Finding the rest of the lot empty, I sighed in relief. It had been a fairly steady morning and with it now well past lunch time, my stomach was beginning to protest.

Turning towards the store, I saw Sodapop leaning on the counter, his head resting in his hands. Brad came out of the garage and followed my gaze, a frown coming onto his face as he did.

"It'll be quiet for the next while," he said. "Why don't you two go for a break?"

"Sure. Thanks, Brad." I headed into the store. Soda's head jerked up at the sound of the door and I didn't miss the look of relief on his face when he saw it was me and not a customer. "Ready for a break, buddy?"

"God, yes."

I smiled and grabbed a bag of chips and my pack of smokes from under the counter. Soda's sandwich had disappeared and I figured he must've managed to snack in between customers. His appetite had been normal since we'd gotten back, but I was still glad every time I knew he was eating. I would never forget how frail he'd felt when I'd helped him move around in the hospital.

When we'd made our way to the overturned milk crates, I sat down heavily, glad to be off my feet—and my leg—for a while. As soon as Soda was sitting, he reached over and grabbed one of my smokes and my lighter. I raised my eyebrow at him, but kept my mouth shut.

I munched on the chips, Evie's words running through my head. It wasn't until I finished the bag and lit up my own smoke that I managed to work up the courage to broach the subject.

"Ya know, Soda, I'm here if you ever want to talk." I avoided eye contact, a familiar anxiousness filling me; I'd never been nervous around Soda, but lately I couldn't tell how he'd react to anything. There was silence and I decided to push my luck. "I mean, I know I didn't go through what you did, but I _was_ over there."

There was more silence for a minute, then a sigh. "The thing is, Steve," Soda started, and I glanced towards him, hoping he was finally going to say something useful, "it's not the fighting stuff that's the problem. Honestly, that part feels like forever ago. I barely even remember it. When my unit was ambushed, I'd just been transferred into it. I didn't know any of the guys—not really. Everything after that…"

He trailed off and I waited for more, but it didn't come. Before I had a chance to try again, the back door of the building opened and Brad stuck his head out. "I'm gonna need one of you in here," he said before disappearing again.

Sighing, I stood up. "You know where to find me, Soda, if you change your mind."

X X X

I watched Steve's retreating back and took another long drag on my smoke. He meant well, I knew that, but he couldn't understand. He couldn't understand the complete and total loneliness I'd felt for those three months. The paralyzing and constant fear of what would come next. The panic that _nothing_ would come next.

Sometimes I wondered what had happened to the other prisoners. At the time, I'd been too out of it to ask or even care about them. By the time I'd thought much about it, they'd all been released and sent home. I wish I knew now. They'd understand what I was feeling. But the gang … they wouldn't get it, and I didn't want them knowing. They'd never look at me the same again.

"Sodapop!" I looked up at the high pitched squeal and winced. A young blonde, Rebecca, was quickly crossing the parking lot—another of my former fan club. "I heard you were back home! When did you start work?"

"Just today." I drew my coat closer around me and fixed my eyes on the ground, hoping she'd get the hint. She definitely didn't, instead sitting down on Steve's recently vacated milk crate.

"Good. I wouldn't want to miss out." I could feel her watching me, but I stayed silent. She seemed determined, though, and pressed on. "I haven't seen you around town. Why haven't you come out to any parties?" She moved a bit closer and I abruptly stubbed out my smoke—the second one I'd swiped from Steve—and stood up.

"I've gotta get back inside. See you later, Rebecca." I didn't look at her once, not wanting to know what her face might show. I'd brought my crutches out with me, but I carried them back inside. It was faster to walk without them.

I paused at the doorway of the store. Up front, I could hear the front door open, followed by a voice—Rebecca's—asking for a pack of cigarettes. I hung back, waiting for the sound of the door to signal her exit before heading up front.

"Hey, Brad. It picked up again, huh?" I could hear the disappointment in my voice; I'd been hoping it would slow down for the rest of the day.

"Just enough that one person can't handle it all," he replied, glancing towards me. His expression changed and I groaned inwardly at what I knew was coming next. "You know, I'm done in the garage, Soda. I can cover the last couple hours of your shift."

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

"Soda, don't stay cause you think you have to. I shouldn't have put you on for a full shift right away."

"Look, Brad, thanks for the offer, but I'm fine. Really."

I was anything but fine. I was exhausted, my leg was killing me, and if one more girl tried to hit on me, I thought I might scream.

Brad eyed me skeptically, but shrugged and went out to the parking lot anyway. I sighed in relief as I watched him go. If I went home early, Darry and Ponyboy would be on my case more than ever.

The rest of the shift dragged by in an endless barrage of customers. Most were in too much of a hurry to even give me a second glance, but the ones who didn't rush off kept sneaking glances at my scars, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and disgust. By the time the night shift crew came in, I was desperate to just go home.

"Hey, Sodapop! Glad you're back, man." Derrick came in from the back, ready to take over the cash register for me.

I smiled. "Thanks. The store's all yours for the night." I could see Steve out front helping one last customer, so I grabbed my crutches and moved to the side to wait for him.

"So, you back full time?" Derrick asked.

"I hope so, if Brad has the room."

"Don't worry, he'll make room. The guys we had while you and Steve were gone were real idiots."

The door opened and a middle aged guy walked in. He asked Derrick for a pack of smokes and handed over some bills. While he waited for his change, he looked over to me.

"Hey, kid. What happened to you?" He nodded towards the scars on my arms, and I stiffened. He was the first person to actually ask the question.

I wanted to make up a story, but nothing came to mind. "'Nam," I said quietly, figuring he could draw his own conclusions from that.

"You were in 'Nam?" His whole expression darkened. "How can you even show your face around here after that?"

I was stunned. What the hell was he talking about? It's not like I'd actually _wanted_ to go.

"You people disgust me," he spat, glaring at me. "You think just because you got hurt you can come back, say sorry, and go back to your life? We shouldn't even be over there in the first place!"

"Hey, just lay off," Derrick protested. "It's not his fault."

"Like hell it isn't. He didn't have to go over there."

The door opened and Steve came in just in time to here the last line.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, looking around at everyone.

"Are you gonna defend 'Nam, too?" the guy sneered at Steve.

"I don't give a rat's ass about 'Nam. What I care about is you coming in here and thinking you can tear my friend apart just cause he got drafted."

"He can handle himself." He eyed me up and down and scoffed. "Then again, maybe he needs protection after all. Doesn't look like he did anyone much good over there."

Steve suddenly lunged at the guy, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and shoved him out the door. I stood frozen in place, too shaken to move.

"Fucking asshole," Steve muttered before turning to me. "Soda, you okay?"

I managed a nod. I could feel myself starting to shake, and I hurried into the back to grab my coat. I could hear a mumbled conversation between Steve and Derrick, but I didn't pay attention. By the time Steve came out of the building, I was already waiting at his car.

As soon as we were on the road, he started ranting. "I can't believe the nerve of that guy, coming in and attacking you like that. He doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about. I'd like him to get drafted, then see what he'd do."

"Just drop it, Steve," I muttered, staring out the window. I agreed with everything he said, but I didn't have the energy to deal with it.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. When we got to my house, Two-Bit and Ponyboy were in the kitchen; Pony was attempting to do homework and Two-Bit was clearly being anything but helpful. I gave a quick hello as I took my coat off, then headed right to the shower. I wanted the entire day washed off me. All the looks, all the questions, everything.

I scrubbed furiously at my arms, hoping that somehow I could wash away the scars. I could almost feel the ropes cutting into me and I scrubbed harder. When the soap had dwindled down to nothing, I put my head under the spray from the showerhead, trying to block everything out. It was working until I leaned my head back too far and water went up my nose. I realized too late that this had been a bad idea as everything came crashing back.

_I was drowning. Water was in my lungs and hands were holding me down and I was drowning._

I jerked out of the water, spun around and stumbled, half falling, and landed at the other end of the tub. The water pounded down relentlessly, splashing my feet and legs.

A knock came at the bathroom door. "You okay in there, Soda?" Ponyboy asked from the other side.

I hadn't locked the door. I didn't like being locked in anywhere, even by my own doing. I knew if I didn't answer him he'd come in.

I could feel the water burning my throat where it was trickling down my sinuses.

_My lungs were burning. I needed air. I fought, but the hands held me down._

"Soda?"

"I'm fine," I called out, trying to control the shaking in my voice. "Just dropped the soap." I heard footsteps move down the hall and I breathed a sigh of relief. I put my head on my knees and drew in a few shaky breaths. I was not going to drown. It was just a shower. I was not going to drown.

Slowly, I stood up and stepped back under the water, flinching a little when it touched my head. I finished the shower as quickly as I could, barely caring if the shampoo was washed out entirely. By the time I turned the water off, my breath was coming in gasps. I wrapped myself in a towel and sat on the edge of the tub, concentrating on calming myself down. When I heard the front door slam and Darry's voice join everyone else's, I forced myself to finish getting dressed and go out to the kitchen. If I could just act like I was okay for a few hours, then I could go to bed. I knew I wouldn't sleep, but I was getting real good at pretending.

X X X

Please review!


	21. Chapter 21

Hi everyone :) I was so glad to see that I still have readers, even after such a long wait! Thanks so much to those who reviewed!

I went back to the last chapter and added song lyrics. I completely forgot when I posted it. I don't have any for this chapter—any suggestions are much appreciated!

X X X

The diner was quiet when Two-Bit and I walked in. It was only 4:30, too early for most people to be eating dinner, but Darry had agreed to work a shift at the warehouse tonight and had to be there for six. He didn't work there much anymore, mostly just when someone needed time off. With me old enough to work some and with Soda's army paychecks, Darry had finally been able to stop working two jobs.

I spied Darry sitting in a corner booth and led Two-Bit over to him. "Hey, Dare," I greeted, sitting down.

"Hi, Pony. You guys see Steve and Soda on your way in?"

"Well, hello to you too, Darry," Two-Bit said in a mock hurt voice. Darry just rolled his eyes and turned to me, waiting for an answer.

"No, they're not here yet. They're probably running late from work."

"Well, they'd better hurry or we'll be eating without them."

"Relax, Superman," Two-Bit said, leaning back. "You've got lots of time."

Darry ignored him and got up. "I'm gonna call the DX, see if they've left yet."

As we watched Darry head out front to use the pay phone, Two-Bit signaled the waitress over and ordered us both Cokes. "Your brother's gotta stop worrying so much. What difference does it make if he's late, anyway? He's doing them a favor by going in at all. They're not gonna fire him. And besides, Soda's been back at work for a week now. His first paycheck'll be in soon and it won't matter if the warehouse wants Darry."

I gave him a sideways glance. "How is it _you_ haven't gotten fired yet?"

"I'm too popular with the ladies to get fired. Buck wouldn't have anymore business if I wasn't there."

He gave a wide grin and I groaned, leaning my head in my hands. At the sound of the door opening I glanced up, hoping Darry was on his way back inside to save me from this inane conversation. I groaned again when I saw who it was.

"What is it, kid?" Two-Bit asked, noticing the change in my mood.

"That's David," I said, nodding toward the newcomer.

"The guy who kicked you out of your history group?"

"Yeah."

David started to move towards a couple of Socs who were already sitting in a booth by the door, but at the last second he noticed me. He paused and muttered something to his friends, then sauntered over, smirking.

"Well, if it isn't the history flunky," he sneered. "You know, those who fail history are doomed to repeat it."

"I thought you said this guy was smart," Two-Bit commented. "I've heard that joke a million times. Mostly from my teachers," he added with a grin.

"I _thought_ he was smart. Guess I was wrong. I'm not failing history," I said, turning to David. "Mr. Miller talked to me today. He said he marked my paper yesterday. I got a ninety-eight."

David scoffed. "It still won't cover what you lost from the presentation. I hope Mathews here isn't your tutor. I heard he flunked that course four times."

"At least I wasn't a brown-nosing pansy."

"You wanna test that?" David put his hands on the table and leaned forward, glaring dangerously at Two-Bit, who stared right back without batting an eye. To anyone else he probably seemed furious, but I could tell he was actually enjoying this. He'd probably love it if David started something. Personally, I wanted to avoid the confrontation with Darry that would come if we got into a fight while he was gone.

"I dunno," Two-Bit drawled. "I was always pretty bad at tests. You must be, too, if you feel so threatened by Ponyboy that you had to kick him out of your group."

"I'm sure as hell not threatened by him. I just didn't want to put up with greaser trash."

Now Two-Bit had had enough. He moved to stand up, but I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him. Steve's car had just pulled up. David noticed, too, and watched Sodapop get out.

"Lucky you got your brothers here to protect you," David spat. His voice was bitter, but I couldn't understand why. Why was any of this such a big deal to him?

"He's got more than just his brothers if he needs backup," Two-Bit threatened.

"He's gonna need it." David's gaze was fixed on Soda, who was limping some as he crossed the diner with Steve and Darry. All three were in earshot by now and I saw Darry's and Steve's expressions darken at the last comment.

Steve grabbed David's shoulder and whirled him around. "You better get your ass out that door before I use my blade to stop you from ever saying anything like that again."

David glared daggers at Steve. It almost looked like he was going to try something, but he glanced at Darry, who was standing protectively in front of Soda and looking as if he'd kill David if he so much as opened his mouth. Finally, David shrugged out from under Steve's grasp and stalked off. His friends stood up as he passed, but he brushed them off and stormed out the door to a red mustang.

"C'mon, Soda. You should sit down."

I looked up to find Soda still staring after David, almost in shock. He nodded at Darry's words and slid into the booth, closely followed by Darry. Dinner was silent. Two-Bit made a few half hearted attempts to lighten things up, but none of us could be bothered to play along. I couldn't help feeling incredibly guilty. Soda had been in a pretty good mood this morning, even smiling some when one of us would crack a joke. Now he looked like someone had just killed his puppy.

By the time the waitress brought the bill, I just wanted to go home. While I waited for Darry to pay, I went out front for a smoke. Soda had excused himself a few minutes earlier to wait in the car, claiming he was tired. No one questioned him.

As I stepped outside, I glanced towards Steve's car and saw Soda staring off into space. He'd been doing that a lot since he'd gotten home. I tried to tell myself it was just cause he was tired, but I knew that wasn't it. I wished more than anything that he'd just talk to us.

When I'd finished my smoke and the rest of the gang still hadn't joined me, I started to get impatient. It couldn't take this long to pay; it wasn't even busy. Sighing, I headed back inside to see what was taking so long. Darry, Steve, and Two-Bit were all still sitting in the booth, but they didn't seem to be waiting for anything. They were talking, and whatever it was seemed serious. I crept closer, trying to get close enough to hear without them noticing. When I was two booths away, I stopped.

"You sure, Darry?" Steve was asking.

"Yeah, I'm positive. I went to school with his oldest brother."

"And they were both killed?" Two-Bit asked. "No wonder he's pissed at Pony. How'd his brothers get drafted, anyway? Weren't they in school?"

"They weren't drafted," Darry replied. "His middle brother enlisted and his oldest brother decided to go with him."

"So fate finally dealt a bad hand to a Soc. Why does he have to take it out on us?"

Suddenly it hit me that they were talking about David. I knew he had two older brothers, but I'd had no idea they'd gone to war, much less that they'd both been killed. I snuck out of the booth and quickly headed back outside. Darry obviously didn't want me knowing any of this and I didn't much want to talk about it, anyway.

Soda stayed quiet as I climbed into Steve's car. When Steve dropped us off at home, Soda barely even said goodbye. Two-Bit put a hand on my shoulder as I moved to climb out of the car.

"You're not going anywhere tonight, are you, kid?"

I shook my head. "Don't worry, I'll stay with him."

I followed Sodapop into the house, hoping he hadn't gone to our room. If he was sleeping, or more likely pretending to sleep, I knew he'd get annoyed with me if I hung around and watched him. I breathed a small sigh of relief when I found him sitting on the couch watching T.V.

"Anything good on?" I asked. Some western show I didn't recognize was playing. I had a feeling Soda didn't have a clue what we were watching, either.

He shrugged. "Not really."

Silence hung in the air as we both stared blankly at the T.V. I couldn't stop thinking about David. Everything he'd done made so much more sense now. Before Christmas he'd been civil, even almost friendly to me. I hadn't noticed it at the time, but I could see it looking back. I hadn't spread the news about Soda being M.I.A., but he must've at least known that Soda had been drafted. When my brother had come home and his hadn't, any sympathy he'd felt for me had evaporated.

"Soda?"

Soda started, obviously surprised by the sudden attempt at conversation. "Yeah, Pony?"

I looked down for a minute, unsure if I was just going to make him more upset. "I'm glad you came home, Soda. I couldn't stand it if you had never come back."

Sodapop's eyes started to tear up and I suddenly wished I hadn't said anything. He knew how I felt. Why'd I have to remind him that he could've died?

"Thanks, Ponyboy." Soda gave me a small smile and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "I wouldn't ever want to leave you, Pony," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"I know," I mumbled.

X X X

"Can you believe that kid, saying crap like that about Soda? I don't care if his whole family died over there, he ain't got any right to make Soda feel like shit about what happened to him."

"You're right, Steve," I replied, not really paying much attention to what he was saying. Now that I knew what had happened to David, I actually felt bad for him. The kid had lost almost everything that meant anything to him. There wasn't any point in trying to convince Steve, though. Soda had been shaken by David's comment. He'd used to be almost an undefeated fighter, and for a kid three years younger than him to practically call him a cripple … well, that had to hurt.

"Hey, Two-Bit. Is that his car?"

I looked up sharply, hoping desperately that Steve was wrong. If he saw David, he'd pound him into the ground, and the last thing Sodapop needed was to feel guilty if Steve got himself arrested.

I winced when I saw a red mustang parked in an empty lot. Steve pulled over to the side of the road, giving me a chance to focus on the figure hidden in the shadows. It was David alright. He had a handful of rocks and was chucking them at the windows of the abandoned building

Steve started to get out of the car and I quickly put a hand on his shoulder. There was no doubt we could take this guy, but I honestly wasn't sure I could take Steve if he went too far.

"What, Two-Bit?" Steve growled. "This is perfect. The little shit's alone."

"Steve, don't," I tried. "He's not worth it."

"Like hell he's not! He's got it coming!"

I thought quickly, trying to come up with anything to convince him not to do this. "I'm late for work and you're my ride. We don't have time to deal with him."

Steve scoffed. "Like you care if you're late."

"Normally you'd be right," I said, trying to give him an authentic goofy grin. "But I've been late every day this week and Buck said he'd fire me if I'm late again tonight."

Steve narrowed his eyes, suspecting the lie, but finally took his hand off the door handle and settled back behind the wheel. When we got to Buck's and parked, Steve stayed where he was.

"Aren't ya gonna come in?" I asked. I knew if he left he'd circle right back around and go after David.

"I got stuff to do," he said, shrugging.

"No you don't. C'mon, I'll buy you a drink."

He glared at me, but took the keys out of the ignition and followed me in. I watched him, making sure he took a seat at the bar, then ran in the back to punch in. I smiled when I came back out and saw Steve had actually stayed instead of running off while I was gone. I popped the cap off a Bud and handed it over, followed by the phone.

"What's this for?" he asked, staring at it like it was some sort of alien technology.

"Call Evie," I instructed. "Have her meet you down here."

He pushed the phone back towards me. "I don't need a babysitter, Two-Bit. I won't go after David, alright?"

I pushed it back towards him. "Call her anyway. Once it gets busy I won't be very good company. You might get bored and go find some other sort of trouble."

Steve rolled his eyes, but reluctantly picked up the receiver. I moved down the bar to help another customer while he phoned, being careful to keep an eye on him. As long as he stayed put till Evie got there, he'd be fine. I knew she could keep him under control, at least long enough for him to calm down, and that was all I needed.

X X X

Please review!


	22. Chapter 22

I've been sick all week and should've gone to bed two hours ago, but I really wanted to get this up. I think that deserves some reviews, right? Thank you to those who took the time to review the last chapter!

I have to say, I love this song. The second I heard it I thought of this story. I really feel like the whole thing fits it, but in the interest of space, I just included the chorus.

X X X

Just don't give up, I'm working it out

Please don't give in, I won't let you down

It messed me up, need a second to breathe

Just keep coming around

~~Adam Lambert—Whaddya Want From Me

X X X

"Soda, you ready to go?"

I was been leaning on the DX counter, trying for all the world to look awake and alert, when Steve's voice shook me out of my daze.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

I stood up and followed him to his car, trying my best not to stumble. I'd hardly slept the night before and I'd spent most of the day in a struggle to stay awake. I'd been back at the DX for three weeks now and I knew it was taking its toll on me. I still woke up every night from nightmares. I didn't even want to go to sleep anymore, but it was impossible to stay awake forever. Every time I bolted awake, terrified, I thought back to Ponyboy's suggestion that I go see a doctor. I knew it had helped him after Mom and Dad had died, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. In some ways, the idea of it scared me more than the nightmares themselves. Besides, how could a doctor help? He couldn't make my memories go away.

"Soda, have you heard a single word I've said?"

"What?" I looked over to find Steve shaking his head at me.

"I was asking how Jessica is. She came in to see you today, didn't she?"

I tried to ignore the clear suggestion in Steve's voice. Jessica was yet another girl who'd come in to flirt. The girls didn't come around to the station for me as much anymore. I guessed word had gotten out that I wasn't the same, but every couple of days another one came in, either cause she wasn't in on the gossip mill or she was hoping it was wrong. Either way, I wasn't interested. Just the thought of some random person touching me made me cringe.

"She was fine."

"That's it? Just 'fine'? Soda, you should probably try a little harder here. Most girls don't like it if that's all you can say about them."

"Well, maybe I don't care, Steve!" I snapped.

"Why not? Maybe a girl is exactly what you need. It doesn't have to be anything serious. There's still tons of girls out there who'd love to have even a fling with you."

Steve looked over to me questioningly and suddenly all I wanted to do was break down crying. Maybe if I told him why a girlfriend was the last thing in the world that I wanted he'd stop badgering me about it. But then I thought about how he'd look at me if he knew that reason. He'd never look at me the same way again, and I wanted that even less than I wanted the badgering to stop.

Before Steve could press the issue further, we pulled into my driveway. "Thanks for the ride, Steve," I muttered before jumping out of the car. I crossed my fingers that he wouldn't follow me and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard his car pull away.

No one was home yet. After a quick shower, I decided to start dinner. It was Thursday, which meant Pony was working and would need to eat early. I focused on the task at hand, putting all my energy into it so I wouldn't need to think about anything else. I threw string beans into a pot of boiling water and debated adding some purple food coloring—I'd never much liked eating green things—but decided not to bother. It wouldn't change the taste.

As I was starting to mash the potatoes, Darry came in the front door. "Hey, little buddy," he asked, putting away his jacket. "How was work?"

I shrugged. "Fine. Dinner's almost done. Did you pick Pony up?"

"No, he said he was getting a ride from someone." He came into the kitchen and lifted the lid on the pot that was still boiling. "Wow, these actually look normal. You feeling okay?"

"What, you don't think I'm capable of cooking something that actually looks edible?" I tried to give him my best mock hurt look, but I was sure I failed miserably. I turned back to the potatoes, hoping he hadn't noticed my lack of enthusiasm.

I heard him open the cupboards, then the fridge as he got plates out and poured himself a drink. I expected to hear a chair scraping against the floor as he sat down at the table, or maybe footsteps if he went into the living room, but there was nothing. Darry was staring at me. Again. He and Pony had been doing it a lot since I'd gotten home and it had gotten worse since I'd gone back to work. Most of the time if I ignored it they'd stop, and that's what I was determined to do this time. Unfortunately, Darry was apparently determined to not be ignored.

"Soda."

I reluctantly looked up, knowing this was going to be a conversation I wasn't going to like.

"Soda, I think you should stop working."

I froze. "Darry, you're not serious, are you?"

"Yeah, I am. Sodapop, you're dragging yourself there every day and you look more and more exhausted every time you come home. I think you should take some time off, at least till you're sleeping better."

"I already took time off when I got home! I'm fine. I'm just not used to it anymore. More time off ain't gonna help that at all." It was a weak excuse, but it was all I could think of on the spot.

"That's bullshit and you know it."

I stared at Darry in disbelief. "So what if it is?" I countered. "You think sitting around here all day's gonna be any better?"

"Maybe it would be. At least you wouldn't be trying to work full time when you're getting absolutely no sleep! Or, Soda, maybe you could actually try getting some help!"

"Like going to see your stupid shrink?" I yelled. "It's not gonna help, Darry!"

I threw the potato masher into the sink, the loud clang silencing whatever retort Darry had been about to give. I couldn't stand listening to another word of this, not after having to deal with Steve, too. I stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed my coat, and slammed the front door behind me. Pony was coming up the driveway and smiled when he saw me.

"Hey, Sodapop!"

His voice was cheerful and I had to bite my lip to keep myself together. I didn't want to hurt him, but I couldn't go back in there and pretend everything was okay. I passed him by in silence, moving as quickly as I could without actually running.

"Soda?" Pony called after me. The front door opened and I could hear Darry saying something to Pony, but I couldn't make out what. Whatever it was didn't matter.

No one followed me. I slowed my pace, but kept walking, eyes glued to the sidewalk. I looked up only to cross streets, and even then I barely paid attention. It was only when the sidewalk was replaced by endless, muddy grass that I finally noticed I'd wandered into the park. My leg was starting to hurt and I decided this was as good a place as any to hide out for a while.

I found the swingset and sank down on the closest swing. I remembered when I used to come here with Pony or Darry and wished I could go back to those days. I wished I could even go back to the summer, when I'd gotten my draft notice. If I'd known what was going to happen, I would've headed to Canada, consequences be damned.

"Hi, Sodapop." The voice was soft, but it scared me almost enough to knock me off my swing.

"Hi, Evie," I managed when I'd recovered.

She gave me an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," I said, shaking my head. "Have a seat." I gestured to the swing beside.

We sat in an oddly comfortable silence for a few minutes before she spoke up. "You want to talk about it?"

"About what?" I asked, suddenly guarded. I couldn't deal with anyone else trying to push me into something at the moment.

"About why you were crying." She was looking at me gently and I blushed. I hadn't realized I'd been crying, but when I put my hand to my cheek, it came back wet.

"Just family stuff," I said, shrugging.

"You know that whatever they're doing, they're only trying to help."

I looked at the ground and nodded. "I know. But I wish they'd just back off. Darry keeps pushing me to go see a psychiatrist and Steve is trying to set me up with any girl who comes in the DX."

"He's what?" Evie shrieked. "God, he's such an idiot sometimes."

I winced as I realized I'd probably just gotten my best friend into a lot of trouble. "Actually, he only did it once…"

"He's still an idiot," Evie muttered.

I laughed. "I can't argue with you there. Don't be mad at him, though. There's no point. I already yelled at him for it."

"Alright, alright. I won't change the locks on him." She smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. "You should go home, Soda. I'm guessing you didn't leave under good terms and they're probably worried about you."

I sighed. "I know." I stood up and slowly started heading towards home, nodding to let Evie know it was okay to follow. When we got the edge of the park, I paused. "Thanks, Evie."

"For what?"

"For not making me talk."

She smiled and nodded before turning in the direction of her apartment.

X X X

I stood beside Pony and watched Soda's quick retreat down the sidewalk.

"Are you sure we should let him go?" Pony asked.

I shook my head. "No. But I know chasing after him isn't a good idea right now."

Pony nodded. Sighing, I turned to go inside. I hoped Sodapop would come back soon. I realized I would have to back off him some. I still thought it was a good idea if he stopped working and went to a doctor, but I'd have to wait till he was ready. Otherwise he'd just storm off again.

I examined the mashed potatoes Soda had been working on and decided they were good enough. There were still a few lumps in them, but I wasn't in the mood to wash off the masher to finish the job. While Pony changed for work, I got three plates of food ready. I covered the third and put it on the counter, hoping Soda might cool off and come home quickly.

We ate mostly in silence, both of us too worried about our brother to care much about conversation. As Pony was putting his empty plate into the sink, he turned to me. He hesitated for a second, clearly unsure of something. "Darry, do you think—do you think we should _make_ Soda go to a doctor?"

Without pausing to think about it, I shook my head vehemently. "No. If we do that, he's just going to shut right down. Even if we manage to get him into the doctor's office, he won't talk, and he'll hate us for it."

Ponyboy sighed and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I just hate feeling so useless."

"I know, kiddo," I said, standing up to go over to him. "We've gotta be patient." I felt like a hypocrite after what had happened an hour earlier, but I also knew it was true. I just hoped I could follow through with it. "You'd better get going or you're going to be late."

"Okay. I'll see you tonight, Dare."

When Pony had gone, I collapsed onto the couch and put my head in my hands. Everything was such a mess and I had no idea how to fix it. I'd told Pony to be patient, but patience had never been my strong suit. Soda had been home for nearly two months and it felt like he'd made almost no progress. I didn't know how much longer I could wait for him to be ready to talk, and I was terrified of what might happen if we waited too long.

It was another twenty minutes before I heard the front door open again. I looked up, half expecting to find Steve or Two-Bit standing in the doorway, but instead I found Sodapop. His hands were shoved in his coat pockets and he was watching me carefully. "Hi, Soda," I offered, and he gave me a small smile in return.

"Hi, Darry." Slowly, he took his coat off and came over the couch. He sat down on the end and stared at his hands, not saying anything.

"I saved you some dinner. It seemed only fair, since you did most of the work."

Soda smiled softly at the joke, but didn't make a move to get up. Not sure what else to say, I decided to head to the shower and give Soda some time to himself. When I went back to the living room twenty minutes later, I found Soda in the same spot, but now with the T.V. turned on. The plate I'd saved for him was in the sink, empty. I headed over the couch to join him, hoping to put our argument behind us, at least for now.

"What are we watching?" I didn't much care, but at least it was something to say. My question didn't get any response. I looked closer at Soda and realized he wasn't focused at all on the screen in front of him. His eyes were completely glazed over. "Soda?" I tried, still not getting a response.

I reached over and lightly touched his shoulder to get his attention. I realized too late that it was a bad idea to surprise him. He jerked back out of my reach, drawing himself into the corner of the couch. He stared at me, his eyes full of terror.

"It's okay, Soda," I said gently, drawing my hand back. "It's just me."

"Darry?" Soda whispered, and I nodded. He looked between me and the television, apparently trying to get his bearings. "I'm sorry. I—I wasn't paying attention. I was…" He stopped and shook his head.

"You were thinking about something that happened over there?" I asked cautiously. He nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head and I saw tears glisten in his eyes. "Do you want me to go?" He shook his head again, harder this time.

"No, don't go. I feel safe when you're here," he whispered, his tears silently spilling over.

"Okay. I won't go anywhere," I promised. I moved my arm to the back of the couch, giving him space to move over if he wanted to. Right away he scooted closer and leaned his head against me. I wrapped my arms carefully around him, hoping this was what he wanted, and was relieved when he didn't pull away. I didn't dare ask him again what was wrong. I just stayed with him until he fell asleep.

X X X

Reviews are better than cold medicine!


	23. Chapter 23

Wow, I hadn't actually planned to update this fast. My sister's babyshower is this weekend and I figured I'd be lucky to update by the end of next week. But, a good chunk of this chapter was written in the summer, so it worked out. :)

Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! They really were better than cold medicine!

X X X

So keep slipping  
I continue to try in vain just to pinpoint an answer  
I keep tripping  
On the same damn wire and no one came tumbling after

~~David Cook-Stitches

X X X

I looked up at the grey, sunless sky as I stepped outside. It was the first day of March and it looked every bit of it—cloudy and miserable. It was the sort of day I'd rather spend lying in bed, sleeping off a hangover, but thanks to my little sister I'd been chased out of the house.

I spied Steve walking half a block ahead and jogged to catch up to him. "Hey, Stevie!" I chirped. I usually found the more upbeat I acted, the easier it was to ignore the hangover.

Steve glanced at me in surprise. "Ain't it a little early for you, Two-Bit?"

"Magan had a slumber party last night. Let me tell you, no matter how much beer you drink, it's impossible to sleep through the noise half a dozen preteen girls can make in the morning."

"Man, am I glad I don't have a sister," Steve chuckled. I punched him in the shoulder, then dodged his return swipe.

As we rounded the corner, we saw a group of kids all clumped together on the sidewalk, each of them cradling something in one arm. Steve and I exchanged confused looks, it didn't take long to figure out what the kids were up to. They were standing underneath a streetlight and one by one, they took turns throwing rocks upwards. Beside me, Steve started to laugh, but I nudged him in the ribs to shut him up.

"You think this is funny?" I roared, racing towards the group. The kids looked up at me, startled. They were definitely greaser kids, probably with nothing better to do on a weekend morning. I grabbed a rock out of the closest kid's arms. "You think it's okay to vandalize public property? If you hoods don't stop this second I'll whip this at you hard enough to knock your teeth out!" Petrified, they ran off, scattering the rocks at my feet as they did.

"Since when do you care about vandalism?" Steve asked, coming up beside me.

"I don't." I shrugged, then broke into a huge grin. "But it sure was fun scaring the shit outta them!"

"Lord, Two-Bit, you'll never grow up, will you?"

"Now, where would the fun be in that?"

Steve shook his head and started walking again. When we got to the Curtis', we found that the gang of miniature greasers had been there already: the streetlight at the end of the driveway was shattered to smithereens.

"Wanna bet how long it'll take the city to repair it?" Steve asked.

"I'll guess a week," I said as we opened the front door. "Morning, Curtis brothers!" I greeted loudly. I winced slightly and decided I should probably keep my voice down till the hangover went away.

"Hey, Two-Bit," Ponyboy replied, coming into the kitchen. Sodapop was sitting at the table munching on toast. He nodded at us, but didn't offer anything more.

"Cheer up, Soda! Who can be gloomy on such a beautiful day!" I plopped myself down on a kitchen chair and gave him my goofiest grin. He glanced outside and raised an eyebrow at me. "Fine, fine. But at least your neighborhood is a safer place, thanks to me. I've spent my morning scaring the next generation of hooligans straight."

"What's he talking about, Steve?" Soda asked.

"Some kids were throwing rocks at streetlights and Two-Bit here decided to get his kicks by chasing them off."

"And here I thought maybe he was developing some morals," Darry said, walking into the room.

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing!" I tried to duck Darry's cuff to my head, but moved too late.

"Steve, you driving Soda to work?"

"No, Evie's got my car today. I was hoping I could hitch a ride with you."

Darry nodded and grabbed his keys. "Sure. You ready, Soda?"

Soda nodded and followed them out the door. I turned to Pony. "Well kid, I guess it's just you and me."

"Sorry, Two-Bit," Pony said, getting up and grabbing his school books. "I've got a ton of homework to get done. I'm gonna be in the library all day."

"Oh well. Have fun kid." I shrugged and headed over the couch. This was as good a place as any to sleep things off.

X X X

"Man, that was a long day," Steve complained as we walked towards my house.

"Tell me about it. Don't people ever stop needing gas?"

"I wish. I'm just glad I'm working in the garage tomorrow. At least then I can pretend there's no customers."

"Hey, I've got the whole day off tomorrow. I think I got the better deal." I grinned at Steve, who glared back.

When we got to my house, we found that Two-Bit and Pony had ordered pizza. Steve and I dug in greedily; it had been a busy day and it had been hours since we'd eaten.

After wolfing down four pieces, I went to have a quick shower. When I came back, the T.V. and radio were both blaring and Steve and Pony were raising hell with Two-Bit, who'd been trying to cheat at poker. Despite all the noise I could feel my exhaustion setting in. The sleepless nights were starting to get to me and it was becoming a struggle to keep my eyes open. I knew it was obvious, but none of the guys had said anything. I opted to sit out of the poker game and watch instead. They all gave me concerned looks, especially Pony, but they left it alone. I doubted Darry would, though, especially after our argument, and I decided to grab a Pepsi before he got home. Coffee would be too obvious, but maybe the caffeine from the soda would be enough.

I grabbed a Pepsi bottle from the fridge and quickly downed half of it. It didn't make me feel much better, but I hoped it would at least make me look more awake. Just after I finished it, Darry came in the door. He raised an eyebrow at the wrestling match that had broken out on the floor between Steve and Two-Bit, but ignored it and joined me on the couch.

"Two-Bit cheating again?" he asked.

I nodded. "You'd think he'd give up trying it on us. We know all his tricks; he learned half of them from me."

"But he never stops hoping that we'll slip up," Darry said, laughing. He watched them for another minute before turning and studying me. I looked down, avoiding his eyes and hoping the caffeine had done the trick. "You should go to bed, Soda. You look exhausted."

"I'm not that tired," I lied. I don't know why I bothered. Darry had always been able to tell when I was lying, ever since we were little.

"You still having nightmares?" he asked quietly. I didn't say anything, but that was answer enough for Darry. "Soda, I think you should see a doctor."

I looked up at him in alarm and shook my head. "No, I don't need to see anyone. I'm fine, really."

Pony moved over beside us and I realized he'd been listening. "Darry's right, Soda." His entire face was filled with worry, but there was something else there, too—fear. I remembered how much Pony's nightmares had scared me and Darry and I realized he must be feeling the same thing now. It wasn't the same, though.

"I don't need to see a doctor!" I insisted a little too loudly, drawing the attention of Steve and Two-Bit. Darry looked like he was about to say something else, but I cut him off. "I'm going to bed," I stated, and left before anyone could protest.

Once I was safely in my room, I quickly got changed and climbed into bed, prepared to fake sleep if anyone came to press the issue. In the end, I didn't need to. Within seconds of lying down I was out cold, exhaustion claiming me despite my efforts to stay awake.

Just like every other night, my mind brought me back to the prison camp. I struggled, but I wasn't able to get away from the guards any more in the nightmare than I had been in reality. I woke up sweating and shaking and gasping for breath. I could feel Pony's presence beside me and hear his steady breathing, but I couldn't see him. Everyone had gone to bed and all the lights were out. Our porch light had burnt out a few days before and none of us had bothered to replace the bulb. With the street light out, too, the room was pitch black.

It was so dark. It reminded me too much of my cell, of the nights when all I could see was darkness. I wanted to get up and go to a room where I could turn a light on, but I didn't want any questions. There'd been enough of those already. The blackness closed in, pressing in on all sides and smothering me. I could almost feel the hard, cold floor of the prison beneath me. A scream started rising in my throat and I bit down on the pillow in a desperate attempt to stop it.

Next to me, Pony stirred and I wrapped my arms tightly around him. It was the only thing I could think to do to keep my sanity. It didn't work.

A burning smell suddenly filled my senses. I tightened my grip on Pony. I knew the smell wasn't coming from a fire—at least not a current one.

"Well, isn't this a cute sight."

The voce was taunting. I squeezed my eyes closed tight. I knew that if I looked up, I would see the blackened dead skin of the kid's corpse.

"You're not real," I whispered.

"It's nice to see you have someone to comfort you in the dark. It's dark where I am. I wish I had someone to comfort me."

"You're not real," I repeated, louder.

Pony stirred in my arms. "Soda?" he mumbled, still half asleep. "What's wrong?"

"Shh," I soothed. "Everything's fine. Go back to sleep." I could hear the tears on the edge of my voice, but Pony was too out of it to notice. He was asleep again in seconds.

"Aww, he's worried about you. That's sweet." Hot, putrid breath was suddenly right on my ear. "He _should_ worry."

"You're not real. You're not real."

"Sure I'm real. I'm as real as you make me." A rough hand clamped down on the back of my neck. I tasted blood as I bit my tongue to keep from screaming.

_Just wake up Ponyboy_, a voice screamed from the back of my mind. _Just wake him up and this _thing_ will go away. _

Part of me wanted so badly to listen to that voice. Instead, I lay still, paralyzed.

I reminded myself over and over that it wasn't real. The dark was making my imagination play tricks on me. Eventually, the hand holding on to my neck disappeared. No more taunts came and the air smelled clean again. Without thinking, I broke into silent sobs.

For the rest of the night I clutched Pony, keeping my face buried against his back. Not wanting to wake him again, I stayed as still as possible. It wasn't until the first gray of dawn started to show that I finally loosened my grip on my little brother.

Glancing at the clock, I figured Darry would be getting up soon enough and decided to start cooking breakfast. Even with the room beginning to lighten up, I couldn't bring myself to lie there any longer. I pulled on some socks and sluggishly started down the hallway. I may have been running from sleep, but that didn't mean my body wasn't in desperate need of it.

I had breakfast cooked and was just starting to eat when Darry appeared in the doorway. "Morning, Dare," I said, giving him a small smile and hoping the conversation from the night before was finished.

"Christ, Soda. You look worse than you did last night. Did you get any sleep at all?" Darry stared at me intently, clearly concerned. I shrugged, knowing there was no point in lying.

"A little." I honestly didn't know how long I'd been asleep before I'd woken up, but I doubted it was very long.

Darry sighed and rubbed his face before moving to the stove to get some food. When he'd joined me, he started in again. "Soda, you can't keep going like this. You really need to—"

"I _don't_ need to see a doctor," I insisted harshly. "I know I've been tired lately, but I can manage. I'm still making it to work and everything."

"But for how much longer?" Darry asked. "Soda, have you looked at yourself this morning? The nightmares aren't going away on their own." He paused and I stared at my plate. "I'm trying to be patient, but I'm worried."

"_Aww, he's worried about you. That's sweet."_

The dead voice flashed back to me and I fought the urge to run and hide under the covers.

"Soda?"

I sucked in a breath, almost choked on it, and quickly let it back out again.

"Soda, what's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just—I realized it's almost Steve's birthday and I don't have a present for him yet. I want to get him something good this year. He—he's done a lot for me."

"No arguments there. We'll go shopping once Pony's up."

Darry didn't look convinced, but he didn't say anything else. He was right. I knew he was, but I just couldn't do it. I could barely stand thinking about what happened, much less talking about it. I just had to wait for it to pass.

The problem was, it had been two months and I was still waiting.

X X X

Please review! They really do help improve the story.


	24. Chapter 24

Thank you to all those who took the time to review the last chapter!

So, while I was at my sister's last weekend I had the chance to see this story on a wide screen and I want to apologize to anyone reading it on one of those—the formatting was horrible. I use a netbook, so the story looks fine on my computer, but it was all stretched out on the widescreen and just looked weird. Again—sorry!

This chapter was hard to write. It was all in my head, but it didn't want to actually get written. I've basically spent all day on it, but I think I'm happy with how it turned out. Feedback is always appreciated!

X X X

"Damn it, where are they?" I muttered, fumbling around the last of the kitchen cabinets. I had a pounding headache and had already searched the entire house for the Aspirin bottle. I hadn't slept the past two nights, terrified of waking up to another hallucination. First thing on Monday morning I'd called the city and yelled at some good-for-nothing bureaucrat until our streetlight had been fixed, but it hadn't helped me sleep. Now I felt like I was barely able to stand up straight.

On my second round through the kitchen, I caught a glance at the clock and swore again: I was late for work. Giving the Aspirin up for lost, I pulled on my shoes and grabbed my coat. I was working the mid shift today, which meant Darry had long since gone to work and I was left to walk. Spring was almost here and it was a nice day out, but I would've given anything for a ride.

"Morning, Soda," Brad said as I dragged myself into the station.

"Hi, Brad," I returned, pointedly ignoring his concerned gaze. He'd stopped badgering me about how I was doing, but I'd overheard him talking with Steve a few times. I didn't think he'd bring up the subject now, and I had no intention of doing it for him. Instead, I silently took my place behind the counter and prayed for a quiet day.

Things went okay for most of the afternoon. Customers trickled in, thankfully few and far between. In the time in between I stared at the counter and tried my best to ignore the throbbing in my head. I should've been stocking things, but I couldn't bring myself to actually get up and do it. Brad must've noticed, but he didn't mention it.

"Soda?"

"Huh?" I sat up straighter, looking around for whoever'd spoken. Steve was standing beside me, apparently having come in from the back.

"You okay, Soda?" he asked, frowning.

I shook my head a little, trying to clear it, and instantly regretted the movement as the world suddenly spun. I grabbed onto the counter to steady myself and concentrated on keeping my feet under me. Dimly, I could hear Steve talking to me and I knew I had to say something back. "I'm fine, Steve," I mumbled. "I just have a headache. It's no big deal."

"A headache doesn't make you almost pass out, Soda. What else is wrong?"

He was staring at me intently and I glared back at him. "Nothing's wrong, Steve. It's been a long, boring day and I guess I stood up too fast." I was feeling steadier and took an experimental step back from the counter. Everything wavered again; if I didn't get out of there, I really would pass out.

"Soda—"

"Someone's at the pumps, Steve." We both looked over to find Richard coming in the front door. He'd been working the pumps during the day and apparently wasn't going to wait any longer for Steve to take over for him.

Steve groaned. "Can't you get them, Richard?"

"Sorry, man. I gotta go."

Steve stalked outside, grumbling under his breath. I sighed in relief and slowly made my way to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for support. As soon as the door closed behind me, I sank to the ground and put my head between my knees, shivering as a chill ran through me. I _had_ to get some sleep tonight. I wasn't sure how I was going to do it, but I had to figure out something.

I closed my eyes and rested for a few more minutes. I had another four hours of my shift left and I was determined to make it through. I didn't want Darry on my case again about quitting work. When I thought I could stand up without falling over, I carefully pushed myself up. The dizziness seemed to have passed, and I said a silent 'thank you' to whoever was listening. I quickly splashed some cold water onto my face to wake myself up more before heading back out to the store. Steve was waiting for me.

"Soda, you should go home. Brad said he'd stick around for a while in case it gets busy."

"Steve, for the last time, I'm fine. I don't need to go home." To prove my point, I grabbed a box of chocolate bars from under the counter and started stocking. "See?"

It wasn't hard to tell Steve didn't believe me, but he backed off. I kept stocking even after he went back outside, just in case he came back in when I wasn't paying attention. It was easier to push myself into working than it was to fend off questions. The headache raged on, but I ignored it. I would swing by a drug store on my way home and get something for it.

X X X

"Sorry, Darry!" Ponyboy apologized as he climbed into the truck. "I was working on a chem lab and lost track of time."

I pulled out of the library parking lot and rolled my eyes at my brother. "What else is new, Pony? Seriously, kid, you've got a watch. Why don't you use it once in a while?" I'd been waiting in the truck for over twenty minutes and had been about to head inside before Pony had finally run out of the front doors of the library.

"Well, you don't have to pick me up, you know. I have legs—I can walk home."

"I know, but I don't want you walking alone after dark. You know that." I glanced over to see Pony staring out the window, looking dejected. I sighed. "I'm sorry, Pony. I'm just tired. I'm glad you're working so hard. It'll pay off next year when you're applying to colleges."

Ponyboy grinned, and I felt my mood lift a little. I was getting more worried about Soda with every passing day, but at least Pony was doing okay, and our relationship was better than it had been since Mom and Dad had died.

The phone was ringing when we walked in the door. Pony didn't seem in any hurry to answer it, so I made my way over. "Hello?" I asked, not expecting much. Not many people phoned us—pretty much everyone we knew lived in walking distance and just dropped by if they wanted us.

"Darry? It's Steve."

I frowned. Steve was working at the DX tonight with Sodapop. "Steve? Everything okay?"

"Darry, I think you should come pick up Soda."

"I thought he was working till eight. Is he okay?" I already knew the answer. Soda had tried to cover it up, but he'd looked horrible this morning.

"He says he's fine…" Steve paused and I could hear the disbelief in his voice. "He didn't look good when I came in for my shift and he's looking worse now. I tried to get him to go home earlier, but he wouldn't listen."

"You mean he's listening now?" For one small second I hoped that Soda had actually gotten some sense knocked into him.

"No, he doesn't know I'm calling you."

I sighed. Picking Soda up against his will was just going to make him more stubborn, but I knew Steve wouldn't go behind his back if he didn't have to. "Alright, I'm on my way."

"What's wrong?" Pony asked when I'd hung up.

"I don't know," I said, grabbing my keys and heading to the door. "I guess I'll find out when I get there."

As I pulled out of the driveway, I could see Pony watching from the window. I was a bit surprised he hadn't insisted on coming with me; he'd been just as worried about Soda as I had. Maybe he was afraid of how Soda would react once I showed up. He'd been on the receiving end of Soda's temper a few times now and even though he didn't talk about it, it was obvious how much it upset him.

Steve was at the pumps when I pulled into the parking lot. I could see Soda in the store stocking the fridge. Even from this distance it was easy to tell how exhausted he was."Has he been working like this all day?" I asked Steve.

"No. I was talking with Brad and he said it was slow and Soda mostly sat around all day. He started this when I got here. I don't know if he's trying to prove something, or what, but he can't keep going like this."

"Does he know you called me yet?"

"No. I didn't think it was a good idea to tell him till you got here."

I nodded. Soda had been so on edge lately I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd simply walked off if Steve had told him. "Well, no time like the present," I muttered, heading towards the store.

Soda stopped stocking and turned around when he heard the door open. "Darry?" he asked, surprised. "What're you doing here? Did we run outta milk or something?"

I shook my head. "I came to pick you up."

He frowned, confused. "But it's only six."

"Steve called me. He thought you should go home."

Soda's face instantly darkened. "He called you?" The door opened and Steve stepped in beside me. "Steve, you actually called Darry? I _told_ you I was fine!"

"You're not fine, Soda!" Steve yelled and I saw Soda flinch. "I'm sick of hearing you say that! You're walking around here like a zombie. You need to go home and get some sleep."

Soda's eyes flashed and for a second I thought he was going to punch Steve. Instead, he pushed past us, storming out the door and to the truck without bothering to clock out or grab his jacket. Steve sighed and rubbed his face. I could count the number of fights Soda and Steve had had on one hand and I knew it hadn't been easy for Steve to betray him like that. It was for the best, though; we both knew it, even if Soda didn't.

I went into the back and grabbed Soda's coat before making my way out to the parking lot. "Thanks, Steve," I said as I passed him. He nodded at me and watched me go. The drive home was short and Soda stayed silent. I didn't bother trying to talk to him. I was just happy he was in the truck and hadn't run off again. As soon as we pulled into the driveway Soda opened his door and jumped out without a word. I sighed and followed him, being sure to keep my distance.

He was halfway across the yard when I saw him stop dead in his tracks. "Soda?" I questioned, worried. He didn't answer. He stood on the spot for another second, wavered, and collapsed to the ground. "Soda!" I cried out, alarmed now. I ran over and carefully turned him onto his back. He was unconscious, but I could see his chest rising and falling normally and I sighed in relief.

"Darry! What happened?" I looked up to find Pony running out the front door towards us. He must've still been watching from the window.

"I don't know, Pony," I answered as I checked Soda's forehead. He wasn't warm. Aside from being unconscious, he seemed fine. "I think he's just exhausted. It finally caught up with him and he passed out."

"Should we take him to the hospital?" I could see the anxiousness in Pony's eyes. Taking Soda to the hospital was tempting, but I wasn't sure it was such a great idea. We needed Soda on our side if we had any chance of helping him.

I shook my head. "No. He just needs to get some sleep." I slipped my arms under Soda and scooped him up, his head lolling against my shoulder as I did. "Get the door for me, Pone." Pony nodded and immediately moved to open the front door. I brought Soda right to his room and placed him on the bed, Pony trailing behind me. Soda didn't move an inch.

"He's still in his DX uniform," Pony observed.

"I know," I sighed. "Grab a spare blanket." I carefully pulled Soda's shoes off, then took the blanket Pony had returned with and draped it over him.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Pony asked, his voice small. I watched Soda sleeping, his face relaxed and peaceful for the first time in days.

"I hope so." I couldn't lie to Pony and tell him everything was going to be okay. It wasn't fair to him, and he was too smart to believe me. "C'mon. We should let him sleep."

Pony nodded and followed me to the kitchen. I pulled the makings of sandwiches out of the fridge and threw them on the counter. I didn't feel like cooking and I doubted Pony did, either.

"Did you get your chem lab done?" I asked once we were sitting down. The silence seemed too loud.

"Most of it. The write up is done. I just have the questions left." Pony picked at his sandwich, not any hungrier than I was. We tossed a few subjects around, trying to distract ourselves, but eventually we lapsed back into silence, neither of us able to think of anything else to say. Things stayed calm for a couple of hours. Neither one of us wanted to make any noise in case it woke Soda up, so Ponyboy pulled his homework back out and I sorted through the bills.

We both jumped as a horrible, gut wrenching scream suddenly sliced through the air. I was instantly on my feet, running towards Soda's room, Pony right behind me. Throwing the door open, I found Soda thrashing under the blanket and still screaming bloody murder.

"Soda!" I shouted, rushing over to the bed and shaking him. "Sodapop! Wake up!" I looked over to Pony, who's eyes were huge. He'd seen more of Soda's nightmares than I had, but neither one of us had heard him scream like this.

"Soda, you've gotta wake up!" Pony tried, going to the other side of the bed. On the verge of tears, he started desperately shaking Soda. "Please, Soda," he begged.

Soda's eyes suddenly flew open and he looked around the room wildly. He was soaked in sweat and panting, but at least he was awake.

"It's okay, Soda," I soothed. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I held my hand back. Soda's gaze slowly grew more focused as he realized where he was, but the terror still shone brightly in his eyes.

"It was just a dream, Soda," Pony whispered.

Soda slowly shook his head. "No, it wasn't." His voice was barely audible, but his words came out clearly. Before Pony or I could react, Soda had shot out of bed and was running to the bathroom. I raced after him, afraid he'd lock himself in, and got there just in time to see him throwing up his lunch.

Pony came in behind me and gave me a frightened look. Carefully, he stepped forward and knelt down next to our brother. "It's alright, Soda," he whispered as Soda finished emptying his stomach. I hung back, not sure what to do. His nightmares had never been this bad before. Pony tentatively reached a hand out to Soda's shoulder. Soda jumped back, pressing himself against the wall.

"Go away, Pony." Soda's whole body was shaking with sobs now. I knelt down next to Pony.

"We're not going away, Soda," I said gently. I didn't care what he wanted; we weren't going to leave him alone when he was like this.

"Please, Darry," Soda begged. "Please, go away."

It was Pony who answered. "No, Soda. Not until you're better."

Soda started to cry harder and sank down, curling into a ball. I fought back the urge to comfort him, knowing it would just make things worse. Instead, I leaned against the wall and pulled Pony towards me, getting ready for a long night.


	25. Chapter 25

Wow, thank you all for such an amazing response last chapter! I swear I had five reviews in a half hour—completely amazing. :)

This chapter's been planned for a _long_ time, I was just never quite sure how long it would take to get to it.

X X X

Screaming on the inside, I am frail and withered

Cover the wounds that I can't hide

Walls that lie between us, the saint within the sinner

I have lost the nerve, but it's all right

~~Breaking Benjamin—Into the Nothing

X X X

A loud crack of thunder woke me up. I groaned, wondering why the first storm of spring had to arrive so early. Slowly, I opened my eyes and squinted as I took in the tile floor that greeted me. I recognized it as the bathroom and I struggled to remember how I'd ended up there. The last thing I remembered was Darry driving me home from work…

All at once, the memories of the night before flooded back to me. I remembered getting out of the truck and feeling dizzy, then I was in my bed, Darry and Pony leaning over me. I remembered the nightmare—the guards had brought in the kid and had held me down while they'd torched him. I hadn't been able to help, and I'd watched him burn. Everything was still so vivid in my mind; I could still see the terror on the kid's face, still hear his screams, still smell his skin burning. The sensations melded together, overpowering me, and I quickly leaned over the toilet. There was nothing left in my stomach to throw up, but I couldn't get the smell out of my mind and I kept retching anyway.

When the spasms stopped, I leaned my head down on the seat, too exhausted to do anything else. The coolness of the porcelain felt good against my clammy skin. As I was resting, the door opened and I numbly moved my gaze over. Darry was standing in the doorway, worry written in every feature. I knew I had to look like hell; there was no way I was going to be able to gloss over my sleep deprivation any longer.

Darry stayed where he was and I wondered if he was afraid to come any closer. I had a feeling I hadn't reacted too well to either him or Pony the night before. "I made you a doctor's appointment," he said, his face set. "We have to be there in an hour. Pony's cooking breakfast if you want any."

I just nodded, not bothering to argue with him. I wasn't going to win, not unless I wanted to pack up and move out. I sat for another few minutes, working on gathering the strength to get going. Images of the kid still played in my mind, making me want nothing more than to curl into a ball and cry myself back to sleep.

Eventually, I managed to push myself up and stumble into my room. I pulled off my uniform from the day before and tossed on an old pair of jeans and a shirt before making my way down the hall. As I had a seat at the kitchen table I saw Pony give me the same worried look as Darry had, but I did my best to ignore it. I grabbed a plate of food and managed to choke down a few bites, mainly eating out of a half-hearted attempt to retain some sort of normalcy.

It wasn't long before a burning smell started to fill the room and I felt my blood run cold. I couldn't start hallucinating, not here.

"Dammit, Pony. You gotta be more careful!"

Darry's voice brought me back to reality as I realized that the smell had been real. Pony was standing by the stove, holding a singed pot holder in his hand.

"Sorry, Dare." He sighed, throwing the damaged cloth into the sink and sitting back down.

Pony had caught the accident early, but the smell still lingered in the room. Nightmarish visions of the charred corpse flashed in front of me and I dropped my fork as my stomach churned. The clattering sound rung in the silent air and I could feel Darry and Pony watching me. I bit down, trying to stop the rising bile.

"You okay, Soda?" Darry asked cautiously.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Just not hungry."

"You sure? You really should eat something," Pony suggested.

"I said, I'm not hungry!" I snapped.

I immediately regretted my words as I saw the look of hurt on Pony's face, but I didn't have the energy to fix it. "I'll be in the car," I said quietly. Neither of them tried to stop me as I grabbed my coat and shoes and stepped out the front door into the pouring rain. I hated myself for snapping at Pony like that, but I couldn't help it. It was taking all my strength just to keep myself going. There wasn't anything left over for anyone else.

When Darry and Pony joined me, I avoided eye contact with both of them. I hated the idea of talking to a shrink. I wanted to get out of the truck and refuse to go, but I knew Darry wouldn't take no for an answer, not anymore. I watched the puddles splash as we drove through town in an effort to distract myself. At the hospital, my brothers walked on either side of me, like they were afraid I would bolt. I kept my head down, feeling almost on the verge of tears already.

On the third floor, we came to an empty waiting room. Darry went up the desk and talked quietly with the receptionist before coming back to us. "Dr. Wilson's ready, Soda," he said, pointing to a door next to the desk. I bit my lip, trying to gather the courage to move. When I finally started towards the office, I could feel Darry and Pony watching me carefully. I stepped into the room and took a look around. It was nice enough, but nothing special. Bookshelves lined one wall, a table and chairs were against a second, and windows covered a third. I watched the rain pour down, darkening the day.

"Sodapop Curtis?"

I jumped as a middle aged man came towards me. "Yeah, I'm Soda," I said quietly. He nodded and led me over to the desk that took up the fourth wall and gestured to the chair on the "patient" side.

"Good to meet you, Sodapop. I'm Dr. Wilson." He took a seat and leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. "Is there anything you want to talk about today?"

"No, not really." There wasn't anything I wanted to say to this guy. Where the hell would I start, anyway?

"Well, your brother brought you in here for a reason. He said you haven't been sleeping?"

I stared at the desk and shook my head.

"He said you've been having nightmares, but you won't talk about them. Are they about Vietnam?"

I tensed. This guy just jumped right into things, didn't he?

"Your medical records show you were beaten badly when you were found. Have you talked with anyone about it?"

I crossed my arms and kept my eyes glued to the desk. This wasn't fair. He couldn't just pound me with questions and expect me to talk to him. I didn't even know this guy!

"How are you dealing with the sexual assault?"

My head shot up and I could feel my gaze turn to ice. "How do you know about that?" I hissed.

"I looked over your file before you came in," he calmly explained.

I gaped at him. "Isn't that breaking some sort of confidentiality?"

"I'm a doctor at this hospital and you're my patient. I have every right to look into your history."

This guy couldn't be serious. "I'm not your fucking patient," I growled. I jumped up, not even bothering to glare at him before storming out of the room.

"Soda?" Darry asked as I charged past him and Pony, heading straight for the elevator. "Soda, what're you doing? You just went in there."

"I'm done. I'm going home." I'd done what Darry wanted. I'd tried the doctor, and it had been an even worse idea than I'd thought.

"Soda, you were in there five minutes! You can't be done."

I whirled to face Darry. "I'm done! I'm never seeing that guy again!" Darry's eyes were blazing with anger, but I didn't care.

"Can't you give it another try?" Pony asked, standing a little behind Darry.

"No, Pony!" I shouted. "I'm not going back there, and stop trying to make me!"

"Lay off him!" Darry yelled, taking a step forward. "He's just trying to help. It's all any of us have been doing for months now."

The elevator arrived and I quickly stepped into it, jabbing the button for the ground floor. "Well, maybe I don't want your help. You ever think of that, Darry?"

They followed me in. Pony leaned against the corner furthest from me, arms crossed and head down, and I felt a sudden wave of guilt. I couldn't go back to that doctor, though. It didn't matter how much my brothers wanted me to, I couldn't do it. I watched the numbers tick by on the top of the elevator, waiting impatiently for them to reach one. As the last number lit up, I sighed in relief. The sooner we could get out of here, the sooner I could get away for a while.

My relief was cut short as the elevator gave an abrupt jolt. The doors stayed closed, despite the fact that we'd reached the first floor. I stabbed at the "open doors" button, but nothing happened.

"Are we stuck?" Pony asked.

"Looks like it," Darry sighed. "Must've been the storm. Soda, press the alarm button."

I heard him, but I couldn't move. We couldn't be stuck in here. It was too small. I didn't want to be trapped. My chest tightened and I rubbed it, trying to make the pain go away.

"Sodapop?" Darry asked, moving so he was right next to me.

I couldn't answer him and I saw the concern in his eyes grow. My chest tightened more. I took a deep breath, trying to control the pounding of my heart, but I couldn't get any air into my lungs. I gasped, trying to breathe, but I couldn't. My knees buckled and I felt Darry catch me as I fell to the ground.

"Pony, push the alarm button!" Darry shouted. "Soda, what's wrong?" I tried to tell him I couldn't breathe, but my voice caught in my throat. I clawed at my chest, willing it to somehow relax, and looked frantically at my older brother. "Soda, you need to calm down. You have to breathe."

Pony knelt down in front of me and looked desperately at Darry. "What's happening to him?"

"I don't know, Pony," Darry said, and I could hear an edge of panic in his voice. My vision started to blur and I grabbed hold of Darry's arm in a death grip. "Hold on, Pepsi," Darry soothed.

I tried to suck in another breath, choked, and tightened my hold on Darry's arm.

"They're gonna get us out of here real soon. Just hold on, okay?"

I managed a nod. He was right—they'd get us out. We wouldn't be trapped here forever.

X X X

"Just breathe, Soda," I said, trying to coach him through whatever was happening. How did a person just stop being able to breathe?

"Darry, we've gotta do something," Pony urged.

I looked at Soda. He was still gasping for air and clutching at his chest with his free hand. Sweat beaded his forehead, despite the coolness of the elevator. "Any bright ideas?" I asked, turning to Pony. He paused for a second, then he started fumbling in his coat pocket. He pulled out a pack of smokes and a pack of matches. "Are you crazy, Pony?" I cried. "He can't breathe! How's smoking gonna help him?"

"It might calm him down. It's worth a try." Pony looked at me hopefully, and I sighed. It wasn't like we had a lot of options. I nodded and Pony pulled out a cigarette and lit a match.

Soda's reaction was lightning fast. Instantly he was backed into the corner as far away from us as he could get. His eyes were wide and fixed on the match in Pony's hand like the devil Himself was after him. Even a few feet away I could still see his body shaking. "Put the damn match out, Pony!" I cried. Pony had been staring wide eyed at our brother, but he gave a small jerk and quickly shook out the fire. Soda barely seemed to notice the difference. He was sucking in air in giant gasps, but he didn't seem to be retaining much of it. Moving closer, I carefully reached a hand out to him, but he pulled back further.

"I'm sorry, Soda," Pony almost whispered. "It's out now, okay?" He inched towards Soda, holding up his hands to show they were empty. Soda watched him carefully, his whole body shuddering as he tried to breathe. "It's gonna be okay, Soda. You gotta try to breathe for me, alright?" Soda nodded. As soon as Soda acknowledged him, Pony stayed put, not risking going any closer.

A crash against the doors startled all of us. Soda's gaze snapped towards the sound, but he didn't look scared of it. He was staring at the door with an intensity I'd never seen from anyone. The banging continued and I realized someone was trying to pry open the doors. Slowly, the doors separated. Before I could blink, Soda had leapt up and was running through the half open doors. Pony and I immediately started chasing him, but he was running on pure adrenaline and was out the front doors of the hospital before we could stop him.

I prayed he'd stop once he was outside, or at least go straight for the truck, which was thankfully parked close to the building due to the early hour. Pony made it the door first and stopped in the doorway. When I caught up to him, I saw Soda kneeling on the wet grass in front of the building. He was leaning forward, his head almost on the ground. Even from the doorway I could see he was still panting, but it didn't seem as urgent now.

Slowly, I made my way towards our brother. "Soda?" I questioned, kneeling down next to him, ignoring the rain pounding down on us. Soda's head shot up at the sound of my voice, but he relaxed when he saw it was me. He was soaked, but his breathing was evening out. I wasn't sure what to do at this point. I was still in shock, not even entirely sure what had happened.

Lightning flashed, followed closely by a crack of thunder. Pony eyed the menacing sky. "We should get inside."

"Pony's right, Sodapop. The storm's pretty bad. Can you make it to the truck?"

He nodded and stood up. I held a hand out, wanting to be sure he was steady on his feet, but he seemed okay. We were all drenched by the time we made it to the truck. I wasn't sure Soda even realized it. The whole way home, one thought kept running through my mind—just how much was Soda keeping from us?


	26. Chapter 26

So, I finished work at 12 tonight, it's now almost 2, and I have to get up at 7 to go back, but I'm still determined to post tonight. If that doesn't deserve reviews, I don't know what does. ;) Thank you to those who took the time to review the last chapter!

For the record, I wrote the second half of this chapter in July 2009. I had a hard time deciding which lyrics to use for it, but I finally settled on these. Particularly with the title, they seemed the most appropriate.

X X X

Show me what it's like to dream in black and white

So I can leave this world tonight

Holding on too tight, breathe the breath of life

So I can leave this world behind

~~Breaking Benjamin-Unknown Soldier

X X X

Early morning sunlight streamed through the window as I lay in bed. Yesterday's storm had passed, leaving decent spring weather behind it. Beside me, Pony stirred and I quickly shut my eyes. Neither of my brothers had tried to make me talk about what had happened in the elevator, but I wasn't sure they would keep their silence on the subject.

I waited until Ponyboy had gotten dressed and left the room before opening my eyes again. Steve would be there soon to pick me up. Darry had asked again about me quitting work, but I'd said no. There was a part of me that wanted to just stay home, but I'd rather keep my mind busy. Darry hadn't pushed the issue; after yesterday, he and Pony had pretty much left me alone.

The front door slammed, announcing Steve's arrival. I pulled myself out of bed and made my way to the hall. As I got closer to the kitchen, I could hear Steve and my brothers talking in low voices. "He's barely said a word since it happened," Darry said. I stopped, realizing they were talking about yesterday.

"It sounds like a panic attack," Steve said. "There was a guy in my troop that had one."

A panic attack. It made sense. I'd heard of them, and knew they weren't dangerous, but I also knew I never wanted to have another one.

"I'm worried about him," Darry continued. "He won't go back to the doctor and he won't talk to us."

"Some of the guys from work are going out tomorrow night. Maybe I can get him to go," Steve suggested. "It might be good for him."

"What if he has another attack?" Pony asked.

"He can't hide here forever."

I backed up silently, not wanting them to know I'd heard. In my room, I sat down on the bed and sighed. I didn't want to go out tomorrow night. I liked the guys from work fine, but it would just be a night of bar hopping and girls. On the other hand, I didn't want everyone to keep worrying about me, and maybe it would avoid another argument. At least Steve would be there, so it couldn't be that bad, and I could always bail early if I wanted to.

X X X

"You'll keep an eye on Sodapop tonight, right Steve?" Darry asked.

Steve nodded. "Of course, Darry. But he ain't a kid. He doesn't need a babysitter." Darry glared at him and Steve held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! Don't worry, I'll stay with him."

"You sure it's a good idea, Darry?" I asked. After seeing Soda break down in the elevator, I didn't know what to think anymore. I was surprised he'd even agreed to go out tonight.

"No, but we gotta do something. Unless you've got a better idea."

I sighed and shook my head. My last idea had sent Soda into a worse panic than he'd already been in. He'd had spent most of the past two days hiding in our room. Not knowing what else to do, Darry and I had let him. I didn't like the idea of Soda going out tonight. He could barely socialize with his own family; throwing him into a crowded downtown just didn't feel right. I bit my tongue, reminding myself that Steve would be with him the whole time.

"Morning." We all looked up at the sound of the soft voice to see Sodapop standing in the doorway.

"Morning, little buddy," Darry said, giving Soda a smile. "I saved some eggs for you. They should still be warm." Soda nodded and went over to the stove. "I've got some errands to run tonight, Pony. You able to find a ride to work?"

I nodded, not paying much attention. I was watching Soda, who'd taken the two fried eggs Darry had made and joined us at the table—no toast, no grape jelly.

X X X

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Two-Bit drawled as Steve and I walked through the door of Buck's.

"Watch it, or you ain't getting a tip," Steve shot back.

"Now that's just rude! Find yourself another bartender if you're gonna have that attitude." Two-Bit winked at me and I felt myself smiling. "What can I get ya, Sodapop?" he asked, ignoring Steve.

"Just a Pepsi," I said, taking a seat at the bar.

"I'll take a Bud," Steve said.

"That'll be five bucks." Two-Bit's face was dead serious as he held his hand out. Steve pulled a dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it over.

"How 'bout one dollar and I ignore the leftover pizza that disappeared from my fridge this afternoon?" Two-Bit grinned, took the dollar, and turned around to get the drinks. Steve turned to me. "Seems all those years of drinking turned him into a pretty good bartender."

"He had to have a hidden talent somewhere," I agreed.

"Well, it sure ain't his looks."

"Hey! I heard that!" Two-Bit glowered as he handed over the drinks. Steve smirked and flicked a discarded bar nut at our friend before heading over to a pool table. I could see a couple of the guys from work playing a game, very clearly with a few drinks already in them.

"If you can't keep your friend under control, Soda, he ain't gonna be welcome here anymore." Two-Bit pointed a warning finger at me and I smiled again. Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Soda, good to see you!" Derrick greeted me as I joined the group.

"Hey, Derrick," I answered. He was playing Richard in pool and his attention was soon focused back on the game. I leaned against the wall, watching everyone. I was only out cause it would make everyone feel better, and even if the night turned out alright, I was still happy to stay on the sidelines.

After a couple of hours and a few new arrivals, the group seemed to be ready to move on. I waved good bye to Two-Bit on our way out the door and followed everyone down the street to the next bar. Steve hung back with me and I wondered if Darry had tasked him as watchdog. "Having a good time, buddy?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Yeah, it's alright." I shivered, wishing I'd brought a jacket. Spring was bringing warmer air with it, but it wasn't terrific yet.

"You holding up okay? You're looking tired."

I rolled my eyes at him, annoyed that he couldn't just lay off and treat me normal. He was right, though. Nightmares had woken me up in the middle of the night again and I'd never gotten back to sleep. Sleeping pills were starting to sound like an awfully good idea.

"I might head home," I admitted. The night had been okay, it had even bordered on fun, but I'd had enough of it for now.

"Sure, let's go," Steve said, pulling back from the group.

"You don't have to go, Steve," I protested.

"I don't mind. Evie's been bugging me for a night alone, anyway."

We'd reached a bus stop and I stopped walking. "Really, Steve, I can get home myself. I've been doing it for years now." He paused, looking unsure, and I became more certain that Darry had asked him to keep an eye on me. "Steve, go," I ordered. "Have fun. Don't let me ruin your night. The bus goes almost right to my house—I'll be fine."

Steve shifted uncomfortably before finally nodding. "If you're sure," he said slowly.

"Yes, I'm sure," I insisted, giving him a light push in the direction everyone else had gone. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Fine. Night, Soda." I watched Steve walk away, sighing to myself when he glanced over his shoulder at me. I knew I'd given everyone enough reason to worry, but I wish they'd realize that I wasn't going to crack up if I was alone for five minutes.

While I waited for the bus, I watched everyone go by, some in groups, some by themselves. I'd always loved people watching. Sometimes you could figure out so much about a person just by watching them for a few minutes. It was why Pony had so much trouble understanding people; he was always too wrapped up in something else to notice what was going on around him.

"Lookin' for someone?"

I jumped, startled by the voice that was suddenly behind me. I spun around to find a strange guy leaning against the wall of a building. He was older, maybe thirty, and a good half foot taller than me.

"Whoever you're waiting for, they're not worth it." He smiled at me and took a step closer. "And even if they are, I promise there's better out there." He winked and I felt my stomach turn. "You look cold without a jacket. Why don't you let me warm you up?"

A voice was screaming in the back of my headto run, but my legs were frozen. He came closer, lust filled eyes roaming over my body. When he was close enough to reach out and touch me, my brain finally managed to connect with my legs and I bolted. I ran as fast as I could, dodging around people, ignoring the angry yells that followed me when I knocked into them. Faces swirled around me and I kept running, away from that guy, away from the crowd.

My legs and lungs were both burning when I collapsed on the damp grass of the park. I was panting, trying to catch my breath after running so far. I remembered the look on the guy's face as he leered towards me and my skin crawled at the thought of him touching me. I clawed at my arms, trying to get rid of the imagined feel of his hands. Suddenly, I heard voices coming towards me. I looked up and saw two guys walking across the park, heading in my direction. They hadn't noticed me yet and I wanted to keep it that way. I jumped up and started running again, ignoring the pain that was flaring in my leg.

After racing another couple of blocks, I found myself at Tim Sheppard's house. I was confused for a minute and then I realized why my legs had brought me there. I hammered on his front door and tried to get my breathing under control before he answered. I'd mostly succeeded by the time the door swung open to reveal Tim, who was clearly surprised to see me; I wasn't exactly a regular visitor to his place. "Hey, Curtis. What brings ya to my neck of the woods?"

I didn't beat around the bush. "I need a gun."

His expression quickly became guarded. "What do ya need a gun for?" he asked, arms crossed.

"It's none of your business," I said angrily, trying to stay as calm as I could, which wasn't easy. I wanted this done fast.

"I think it is my business if I give you a gun and then someone turns up dead. What's up, Curtis? You know I won't say nothin'."

"Look," I said, taking out my wallet. "I can pay. How much?" I took a few bills out and shoved them at Tim. He ignored them and studied my face.

I tried to keep calm under his intense gaze, but it was unsettling and I was already anxious. "No," he said simply.

Anger and frustration pulsed through my veins at his answer. What gave him the right to say no to good money? "Why not, Tim? I got the money. I promise I ain't gonna go murdering no one. Just give me the gun."

Tim shook his head firmly. "Not a chance, Curtis. For one, you're clearly pissed about something and you're probably gonna go doing something stupid. Two, I don't need Darry coming after me if he finds it."

I glared at him, then spun around and stalked off. Fine. I didn't need him anyway. My right leg was throbbing, but I ignored it and quickly walked the last few blocks to my house, relieved to find it still empty. Darry and Ponyboy would be home soon, but I should still have a few minutes. I went straight to the kitchen and pulled the drawer open, quickly finding what I wanted.

I examined the knife in my hands, watching the light glint off the cold steel. It would be so easy to use it. I wouldn't have to remember anymore. I could finally sleep without nightmares. But by now some of the panic and adrenaline from earlier had faded and I stood for a minute, holding the knife. I pictured Darry and Pony coming home and finding me. I thought of everyone I didn't want to leave behind. But I was so tired. The memories were haunting me, eating me alive. I squeezed my eyes closed, wrestling with the two sides of myself.

Images of rope flashed through my mind. I remembered the agony of the night I'd spent tied up, the fear I'd felt when I'd realized they were going to do it again. I remembered the beatings and how I'd been completely helpless to fight back. I remembered Chu, his hands on my body, the pain as he'd forced himself on me, the feeling of being completely powerless.

Before I knew what I was doing, I'd taken the knife and slashed it into my wrist, dragging it partway up my arm before doing the same to the other one. Blood spilled from the gashes, pooling on the floor at my feet.

There was a momentary flash of relief, almost freedom, and then suddenly I saw Pony and Darry in a cemetery, standing next to three graves. I stared in horror at the knife in my hand. No…this wasn't what I wanted. Not anymore. I wanted the nightmare to end, but not like this. The world started to spin and I fell to my knees. The phone was across the room and I thought about trying to call for help, but it looked so far away. Everything was blurring together as I felt the warmth continue to run down my arms. I was so tired. I felt my body crumple the rest of the way, landing on something soft. A blurry shape moved into my line of vision and I blinked, bringing a teary eyed Pony into focus. Then suddenly Darry was kneeling over me, too. I could see them mouthing my name, but I couldn't hear them. I wanted to tell them I was sorry. I was so sorry.


	27. Chapter 27

So, for anyone who heard about the people who were snowed into their cars for twenty-four hours—that was here. Apparently it was quite the news story. No injuries though. :) And I was thankfully smart enough to not be one of them, though I came close.

Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter! I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. I know everyone's busy with the holidays, but I'd appreciate a couple minutes to let me know what you think of this chapter. :)

X X X

The sword of time will pierce our skins

IKt doesn't hurt when it begins

But as it works its way on in

The pain grows stronger…watch it grin

~~Johnny Mandel—Suicide is Painless

X X X

"You have a good night?" Darry asked as we pulled out of the track parking lot.

I shrugged. "It was alright. Nothing special."

"You finished your homework before work, right?"

"Yes, Darry," I said, suppressing a groan. Aside from my history presentation, I was making straight A's, but Darry was still on my case about homework. I swore that if he ever ended up going to college, I'd pester him every night about studying.

There wasn't much traffic and we made it home quickly. "Soda, we're home!" Darry shouted as we came through the front door. Silence answered him. He turned to me and shrugged. "I guess he's still out."

I nodded in agreement and made my way into the kitchen to get a snack. "Do you think he's…" I trailed off and stood frozen in the doorway at the sight before me. Kneeling on the kitchen floor in a widening pool of blood was Sodapop. One of our kitchen knives lay on the floor next to him, now dyed a dark red. Darry came over and let out a string of curses when he saw what I was looking at.

This couldn't be happening. It wasn't possible.

When Soda started to fall the rest of the way to the ground, I shook myself out of my stupor. I ran over and managed to catch his head in my lap. "Soda?" I called desperately. His eyes were staring up at me, but I wasn't sure if he really saw me. I could hear Darry on the phone, calling an ambulance. "Oh God, Soda. What've you done?" I whispered. The coppery smell of blood was thick in the air as it spread, soaking into my jeans as I knelt next to my dying brother.

Darry came over and knelt next to us. "The ambulance is on its way," he said, pulling two dishtowels off the counter and tossing one to me. He grabbed one of Soda's wrists and pushed the towel to it, trying to stop the bleeding. I quickly copied him; blood saturated the material almost instantly. Soda's eyes were closed now, his breathing shallow. I saw tears splash onto his face and I realized I must be crying. "C'mon Soda, stay with us," Darry begged. I could hear the wail of the ambulance siren as it got closer and I desperately pushed the towel to Soda's wrist, hoping it would buy him enough time for the paramedics to help him.

When they came in the door, they pushed me and Darry out of the way and rapidly fired off questions while they frantically worked to stop the bleeding. I couldn't believe how much blood there was; it just kept pouring out of him. In a matter of minutes they'd placed him on a stretcher and carried him out to the ambulance. Darry and I followed and saw them hooking up a bag of blood to his arm, then the doors slammed closed and they sped off.

"Pony, get in the truck." Before I could answer, Darry was running into the house. I went to the truck and pulled the handle, but stopped short when it didn't budge. I tried again, but still nothing. "I told you to get in the truck, Pony!" Darry yelled. I turned to find him running towards me, car keys in hand.

"It's locked." My voice sounded far away and I wondered if I'd even spoken.

Darry looked at the keys in his hand, shook his head, and quickly unlocked my door. The second he was in the truck and had started the engine, we were out of the driveway. Darry's knuckles were white and I briefly wondered if it was possible for him to crush the steering wheel with his bare hands. We drove at speeds I didn't know my oldest brother was capable of, making it to the hospital in record time.

Darry pulled into the emergency room parking lot and was half way to the building before I'd even managed to open my door. I ran to catch up and found him at the nurses' desk, already pestering for information.

"He got here a few minutes ago. You've gotta know something."

"Sir, if he was just brought in, I won't have any information for you yet. You'll need to have a seat and wait." Darry was glaring daggers at the woman on the other side of the desk, but she didn't back down. When he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere, he stalked over to a row of chairs and sat down.

"They won't tell you anything?" I asked, sitting down next to him.

"Nothing," Darry growled. The frustration was clear in his voice and I stayed quiet. After a couple minutes, I sniffed, and realized I was still crying. Not wanting Darry to notice, I quickly wiped at my eyes.

"He's gonna be okay, Pone," Darry whispered. I looked over to find him watching me, his face softer than it had been a minute before.

"But there was so much blood," I mumbled. I stared at my jeans, which were now stained crimson.

"He's going to be okay," Darry repeated. "He hasn't gone through this much to die now." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I leaned into him, grateful for the comfort. We stayed like that, not moving, until a doctor finally entered the waiting room.

"Family of Sodapop Curtis?"

X X X

"Hi, Two-Bit."

I looked up at the sound of my name and smiled at Evie. "What's a beautiful lady like you doing in a place like this?" I asked, leaning on the counter and smiling at her.

"I was looking for Steve," she replied, rolling her eyes at the comment.

"He left with the guys a while ago. Maybe a couple hours. You planning to join the group?"

"No. Steve called me and said Soda went home. He thought maybe we could meet up and have a night out. He said they might come back here, and it's closer to my place, so I figured I'd check it out first."

"Soda left?" I asked, surprised. "It seemed like he was actually having a good time."

Evie shrugged. "Maybe he got tired. Steve said he seemed fine when he left."

"I hope so," I said. "He's been pretty stressed out lately. Tonight seemed to be doing him some good. Too bad he didn't stick with it longer."

"This is the first time he's really gone out. At least it's a start," she pointed out.

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. You gonna stick around here a while, see if Steve shows up?"

"No, I think I'll see if I can track him down." Evie got up to leave and I gave her a wary eye.

"You sure you're okay wandering around on your own? It's getting late."

She smiled and shook her head. "Thanks, Two-Bit, but I've been taking care of myself for a long time now. As long as the streets aren't deserted, I'll be just fine." With that, she waved and headed out.

Steve sure was a lucky guy, I thought with a sigh. I just hoped Soda really was okay. He'd been having a good time while he was here; nothing like his old self, but still loads better than he'd been lately. Evie was right—even if he'd cut the night short, coming out at all was a good start.

I whiled the rest of the shift away, making small talk with anyone bored enough to talk to a complete stranger. When the night ended, I headed home, figuring I'd change and head out to find some action. Even with the late hour, there was usually something going on, especially for someone willing to look.

At home, I found my little sister rummaging through the fridge. "What're you still doing up, Magan?" I asked, frowning. She was on the brink of her teenage years and I was getting the bad feeling she was taking after me.

She shrugged, not bothering to look up from the snack she was fixing. "Just am." Before I could grill her for more information, the phone rang. "It's probably Darry again," she said, rolling her eyes at the phone. "He's been calling for you all night."

Instantly my stomach dropped. Darry wouldn't call so late unless it was important. I ran for the phone, fumbled it, and finally managed to pick it up. "Hello?" My heart hammered in my ears; this wasn't gonna be good.

"Two-Bit? It's Darry."

"What's wrong?" I asked. I'd been expecting trouble, but what Darry said next shook me to my core.

X X X

I sat alone next to Soda's bed, watching an IV slowly drip blood into his arm. Darry had left to try and get a hold of Steve and Two-Bit. He'd tried calling each of them a few times, but he hadn't gotten an answer yet. Soda was still unconscious, but the doctors thought he'd wake up soon. His wrists were stitched up and were bandaged in soft white gauze, but that was mostly hidden by the restraints the doctors had put him in. His hands were gently held to the sides of the bed with padded handcuffs. I was sure he was going to flip out when he woke up and saw them, and I'd protested, trying to explain about his history, but the doctors had said he was too much of a risk to himself.

I heard a small groan and turned my gaze to Soda's face. His features were pulled together in a frown as he tried to pull himself back to consciousness. A part of me felt bad for him, lying in the hospital bed and obviously in more pain than I could understand, but another part of me was furious with him. We'd almost lost him once. What gave him the right to actually try to leave us a second time? Soda gave another moan and despite my anger, I took hold of his hand.

Slowly, his eyes opened and he looked around the room. When his eyes landed on me, he smiled a little. "Hey, Ponyboy," he said softly. When I didn't say anything, his smile vanished. "I'm so sorry, Pone. I didn't mean to…I didn't even realize I was doing it till it was too late." I nodded, but I wasn't sure what to think. His hand moved under mine, trying to pull up. I saw his face fill with confusion, then realization, then terror. "Pone?" he asked in a small voice. "Why can't I move my hands?"

"The doctors were worried you might hurt yourself again," I told him bitterly. This wasn't a conversation I ever thought I'd have with Sodapop.

He shook his head violently from side to side. "No, I won't, Ponyboy. I promise I won't do it again. Can you take them off?" He pulled against them desperately, his face filling with panic when he couldn't break free.

I watched him sadly and shook my head. "They won't do it, Soda. I already asked them."

"Ask them again," he urged. I knew there was no point, but I got up to find a doctor anyway. Soda wasn't going to take no for an answer till I'd at least tried. I found Darry in the hallway talking with Dr. Wilson and they both followed me back to his room when I told them he was awake. "Darry," Soda cried out when he saw us. "Dare, can you take these things off?" He pulled against the restraints again with more force than he had before. "Please, get them off!" he begged, starting to cry.

Darry went over and took Soda's hand in his. "I can't do that, little buddy," he said gently. "I don't want you to hurt yourself again."

"I won't!" Soda insisted "I swear, I won't try anything! I promise! Just get them off!" he cried hysterically, yanking as hard as he could on the restraints.

"Sodapop, you need to calm down," the doctor said, his voice calm. This set Soda off worse and he turned furiously to the doctor.

"I'll fucking calm down when you take these things off, you fucking depraved bastard!" he screamed, his face suddenly contorted into a mask of pure hatred. I took a step back, caught off guard by the sudden switch in his mood. Darry had moved back too, and he put an arm around me. Soda was pulling as hard as he could now against the restraints and I was starting to worry that he'd rip out his stitches. Dr. Wilson took out a syringe and moved towards Soda, who's hysteria increased at the sight of the doctor coming towards him. "Stay away from me!" he screamed angrily, twisting away from the doctor's grasp as much as he could. "Stay the fuck away from me!" The doctor pushed the needle into Soda's arm and within seconds his cries started to calm down. In half a minute, he was unconscious again.

I stared at his inert form, shaken by what had just happened. I'd expected him to be upset by the handcuffs, but this had been a full blown explosion of fear and anger. Darry pulled me close and I turned into him, away from Soda. I heard Darry talking to the doctor, but I tuned their words out. All I could think about was the pure, raw terror on Soda's face when he'd realized he was tied down. For that one moment, my anger at my brother melted and all I felt was sadness.

X X X

Please review!


	28. Chapter 28

Happy New Year, everyone! Apparently we have fireworks in my city. Somehow I never knew this, but it was a nice surprise!

So, I was planning to update yesterday. I was having a lot of trouble all week with concentrating, but I had the whole day off and was very determined. However, a slight hitch happened when I got a call at 7:20 am that my sister had gone into labour. I ended up driving 2.5 hours to Kitchener, sitting in a hospital cafeteria for 4 hours, and driving home. But, I have a brand new nephew now!

At least I had a good excuse for delaying for a day. ;) And I ended up writing a good chunk on the drive home and now have an extra long chapter.

As always, I love to hear what you think! :)

X X X

And you feel

The eyes of people who try to decide

You'll find yourself lost

Inside of the chaos

~~Mark Hoppus (with Pete Wentz)—In Transit

X X X

"_Are there any other options?"_

"_I'm afraid not. It's hospital policy to keep him here for seventy-two hours. Just in case."_

Just in case.

The words rang through my mind as I drove home. Pony sat silently beside me, staring out the window. He hadn't said a word since Soda's meltdown.

"_Is there any way we can take the restraints off?"_

"_I don't recommend it, but we can do it if you insist. You'll need to sign a consent form."_

I couldn't believe this was happening. How had we not seen this coming? Soda had been depressed since he'd gotten home. One of us should've realized he might try this.

"_I'd like to try electroshock therapy."_

"_No. Absolutely not."_

"_It's had excellent results for other patients."_

"_I said _no_. Not with his history."_

Thinking back to the earlier conversation, I started to see why Soda hadn't liked Dr. Wilson. I had to wonder if he'd even read Soda's file. There was no way in hell strapping my brother down and electrocuting him was a good idea.

We came to a dead end and I looked around in confusion before realizing I'd missed the turn for our street. Pony was still staring out the window. He either hadn't noticed or didn't care. I sighed and turned around in the closest driveway.

"_When can we come back and see him?"_

"_Visiting hours are noon till six. You're welcome to bring some things from home. Nothing with strings or glass, though."_

I shuddered as I thought about the restrictions. What if Soda tried something again? He'd said he wouldn't, but he'd been half hysterical at the time. I wasn't sure I would trust him even if he'd been calm.

"_What happens after he leaves here?"_

"_We'll talk more about that later."_

A car door slammed and I jumped. I hadn't even realized we'd pulled into our driveway. I forced myself to get out of the car and follow Ponyboy up the walkway. I found him standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the kitchen floor. It was caked in dried blood.

"You okay?" I asked, coming up beside him. He gave a quick nod, not meeting my eyes, before escaping down the hall to his room.

I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face. I suddenly wished Two-Bit was there. When I'd finally gotten a hold of him, he'd offered to come right over, but I'd told him not to bother. There wasn't anything he could do, not at the hospital or at the house. Looking around at the mess, I regretted ever telling him that.

The clock on the wall read almost four in the morning, but I knew I wouldn't sleep. Not knowing what else to do, I filled a bucket with soapy water, grabbed some rags, and got down on the floor to start scrubbing. I wasn't sure how long it took me to realize the first rag was already dyed red and useless. I threw it away in frustration and picked up a clean one.

"Do you need help?"

At the sound of the soft voice I looked up. Pony was standing in the doorway, still dressed in his stained clothes from earlier. His eyes were rimmed red and tear tracks could still be seen on his face, but his voice was steady.

"Yeah. Help would be good," I answered. He nodded, picked up a rag, and started scrubbing.

It was nearly an hour before every trace of blood was gone. Pony silently trekked back down the hall; a minute later, the shower turned on. I took the opportunity to go to his and Soda's room to pack an overnight bag. Looking around, I tried to decide what to pack. Jeans didn't seem right, but track pants had string. With a sigh, I finally pulled the drawstring out of the track pants and threw them in the bag.

I heard the shower turn off and I quickly gathered together a few more clothes before bringing the bag out to the living room. I planned to drop it off before I went to work. Down the hall, Pony's door shut; he had a couple of hours before he had to get up for school and I hoped he'd get some sleep. I didn't even bother to try.

A pack of Pony's smokes was sitting on the coffee table and after a minute of debate with myself, I grabbed them and went outside to sit on the porch swing. I hadn't smoked since high school, but sitting out in the pre-dawn darkness, it was comforting. As I exhaled, I watched the smoke vanish into the air in front of me. I took my time, not wanting to smoke too many cigarettes, but needing to keep myself busy with something.

When the sun started coming up I headed inside. Pony was already in the living room, gathering his books together. I glanced at the clock; it was only six thirty.

"Pony, you've got lots of time to get to school. You should eat something."

"I'm not hungry," he replied, putting the last of his books on the top of the pile.

"The school's not even open yet, kiddo," I said, heading into the kitchen.

"The custodian's there," he said, shrugging. He pulled on his jacket and picked up the books.

I stared at him in disbelief for a second before deciding I wasn't going to try to change his mind. Maybe he'd have better luck distracting himself at school, anyway. "Fine," I muttered. "Are you going to be at the library after school?"

He nodded. "Probably."

"Good. I'll pick you up there when I'm done work."

"Why?" he asked. "It won't be dark yet."

"To see Soda. I'm going there after work. I thought you'd want a ride."

"I'm not going," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"What do you mean, you're not going?" I asked. I thought I had to be missing something.

"I'm not going," he repeated. "It's not a difficult sentence, Darry." He turned and started for the door, but I ran forward and put out a hand to stop him.

"Pony, you're coming with me tonight. Soda's going to want to see you."

"I don't care what he wants," Pony hissed. "He doesn't have a right to expect anything from me."

I stood frozen on the spot, taken aback by his response. Before I could piece together what had just happened, Pony was gone.

I collapsed back onto the couch and buried my face in my hands.

X X X

"Mmm. I'm glad you called me last night," Evie mumbled, lying next to me and rubbing my arm.

"Me too," I smiled. "We've both been busy. I've missed you lately."

"Well, I'm here all day," she said, giving me a devious grin.

A loud banging suddenly started at the front door. "You expecting someone?" I asked. She shook her head. The rapping continued; whoever was there was apparently determined to find us. "Alright, I'm coming!" I yelled. I jumped out of bed and pulled last night's jeans on. Whoever it was had better have a damned good reason for interrupting us.

The person was still hammering on the door as I crossed the living room. "I know you're in there, Steve! Open up the damn door!"

I frowned; it sounded like Ponyboy. Why on Earth would he be so desperate to talk to me? I reached the door and yanked it open, prepared to chew the kid out, but before I had a chance I was cut off by a swift right hook to my jaw. I staggered back, tripped over a pair of shoes, and fell to the floor. Despite the size difference, I couldn't help but be reminded of when Darry had almost broken my jaw. Except this time, I had no idea what I'd done. Ponyboy came at me, looking like he was going to hit me again, and I quickly scrambled to my feet. His fist came at me, but this time I blocked it. "What the hell are you doing?" I shouted.

"Why'd you do it, Steve?" he cried out. He looked almost on the verge of tears, leaving me more confused than ever. "Why'd you leave him?"

"Kid, ya gotta slow down! I got no idea what you're talking about."

"Sodapop, Steve! Why'd you leave him alone last night?"

"I left him at the bus stop. All he had to do was hop on it and get off at your house. He said he was fine. What's the big deal, Pony?"

"You know damn well he isn't fine! He hasn't been fine in months."

"Ponyboy, listen to me," I said as calmly as I could, grabbing his shoulders. "What happened?"

"Sodapop tried to kill himself last night."

He may as well have punched me in the gut. Time stopped; this couldn't be happening. Soda wouldn't do that….

My mind reeled, desperately searching for something that would make sense. Not able to find anything, I latched onto the one shred of good news in Pony's sentence.

"You said he _tried_ to kill himself. Does that mean he's okay?" He had to be okay. After everything he'd gone through, everything we'd gone through with him, he had to be okay.

Pony glared at me. "He's alive," he spat, and I felt myself relax a fraction. At least he was alive. "He's in the hospital. They're keeping him in the psych ward."

I took a deep breath, trying to digest everything. This didn't make any sense to me. Sodapop had always loved life. How could he do something like this? Pony was right, though—Soda hadn't been fine in months. "How—what—" I stumbled over the words, not able to get out my question. Pony figured it out anyway. The damned kid had always been too smart.

"He slit his wrists." The answer was blunt. "Darry and I came home just in time…" Pony trailed off and looked again like he might start crying. I hoped he wouldn't. I didn't feel very far off from breaking down and didn't think I could handle watching Pony crack.

"Ponyboy, I'm so sorry." Evie's soft voice rang out behind me and I almost jumped. I'd forgotten she was even here and hadn't heard her come into the room. From the look of surprise on his face, Pony apparently hadn't noticed her, either.

"Thanks, Evie," he whispered. "Umm, I'm gonna go." He didn't look at either of us as he turned and left.

As soon as he was gone, I found the closest chair and collapsed. "Steve, are you okay?" Evie asked, coming over to sit beside me.

I shook my head. "Why did I leave him last night, Evie?" I asked, searching her eyes in hopes of an answer to this insanity. "Pony was right. I should've known Soda wasn't okay."

"Steve, you can't blame yourself," she said gently, putting her hand on my shoulder. "Soda's been back for a while now and hasn't done anything like this, and you said he really did seem fine last night. There's no way you could've known he'd try to hurt himself."

"It doesn't matter," I said, more to myself than her. "I should've been there."

X X X

Awareness came slowly. I struggled through the thick fog invading my mind, finding it a struggle just to wake up. When I finally managed to open my eyes I was greeted by a stark white ceiling. I frowned; I didn't remember our ceiling being so white. I looked around and instantly became more alert as I took in the unfamiliar white walls around me. A small part of my mind knew that I was safe, but the sense of panic that had invaded wouldn't let go of me. It only got worse as the night before came back and I remembered the restraints I'd woken to last time.

Carefully, I pulled my hands up, testing to see if the restraints were still there. When I didn't meet any resistance, I immediately sat up and pulled my hands towards myself. I didn't care why the restrains were gone, as long as they weren't going to come back.

My gaze landed on the gauze wrapped tightly around my wrists and I winced as I realized why it was there. I couldn't believe I had let this happen. I had just been so desperate to make it all stop. I bit my lip as I realized I'd only made everything worse.

"Good, you're awake."

My head snapped up as a nurse came into the room. She was older, maybe fifty, but still pretty for her age.

"Where are my brothers?" I asked quietly. I'd been hoping they would still be there.

"They went home hours ago. You've been out for quite a while, dear."

I looked around and realized there were no windows in the room. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven. Your brother dropped some clothes of for you earlier," she said, nodding towards the chair beside my bed. "He said he'd come by again later today."

As I stared at the pile of clothes, I suddenly realized I was wearing a hospital gown. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I knew that what I'd been wearing last night must've been ruined, but I didn't want to think about a stranger taking my clothes off.

"Honey, it's alright." The nurse moved forward and perched lightly on the edge of the bed. "Look at me." Her voice was gentle, but firm, leaving no room for argument. I struggled to hold back tears as I looked up to meet her gaze. Her brown eyes were warm and soft. They remind me of Mom's. "You're safe here. You're not in the prison camp anymore. No one here is going to hurt you. You hear me?"

I nodded. It occurred to me that she must've read my file, but I pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on her words.

"Good." She reached forward and squeezed my hand. "Now, get dressed," she said, standing up and heading for the door. "You need anything, you ask for Rose."

As the door clicked shut behind her, I took in a shaky breath. She was right; I was safe.

Slowly, I slid off the bed, trying to ignore the cold draft that meant the hospital gown didn't close in the back. There was a pair of track pants on the top of the pile and as I picked them up, I couldn't help but notice that the string had been pulled out. Not wanting to dwell on the reason why, I ignored it and dug through the rest of the clothes until I found some underwear and a shirt. I dressed quickly, then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Aside from the bed and chair, the room was completely bare. I didn't want to stay there and just stare at the wall, but I wasn't sure if I was allowed to leave, or if I even wanted to. When I noticed there was no bathroom, I realized I didn't have much choice.

I opened the door and poked my head out, not sure what to expect. The hallway looked like any other hospital I'd ever seen, so I took a cautious step forward. At the end of the hall was an open room with a few ratty looking chairs and couches. A nurse and orderly were talking at a desk in the corner, but otherwise the room was empty. They glanced up at me as I got to the end of the hallway, but they didn't make a move to stop me.

"Umm…Where's the bathroom?" I asked.

The orderly took out a key ring and walked over to an unmarked door. "The door won't lock from the inside. If you're not out in five minutes, someone will come in to check on you."

He rambled off the instructions as he unlocked the door. I stared at him in disbelief, but he didn't seem to care; he just waited for me to move past him. I finished in the bathroom quickly, not wanting the five minute time limit to expire and have someone walk in on me. When I came back out, the orderly barely paid me any attention.

There was another hallway branching off of the room, and I figured I may as well explore it. I passed a few closed doors before coming to another open room. There were a few more couches in it, in just as bad condition as the ones in the last room, but there was also a small T.V. A couple of patients were sitting on the couch closest to it, another orderly sitting nearby. There was a desk in this room, too, and I smiled slightly as I saw Rose sitting behind it.

"Hello, Sodapop," she greeted when she noticed me. "Are you feeling better?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

She gave me a knowing smile. "Give it time, honey."

"Do you know what time my brothers were planning to come by?" I asked. My wrists seemed to be healing, and all I wanted to do was go home. I knew Pony was mad at me, and I figured Darry probably was, too, but I didn't care.

"Probably not for a while. He said he had to work all day. Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" I watched the two people staring at the T.V. and shook my head. "That's probably just as well. Dr. Wilson wants to see you."

"Dr. Wilson?" Everything from the night before was still a bit hazy, but the part where Dr. Wilson had stuck a needle in me was crystal clear. I remembered my first meeting with him, too, and between the two experiences, I didn't really want to see him a third time.

"Yes. I told him you're awake. He should be here in a few minutes."

"I don't want to see him," I said, instinctively shrinking back a step.

"Honey, he's your doctor. You have to see him."

"Isn't there another doctor I can talk to?" I didn't want to see anyone, but I'd do it as long as it wasn't Wilson.

"Not at the hospital. He's the lead psychiatrist. He's not that bad," she added, giving me a sympathetic smile.

"I really don't wanna talk to him," I pleaded.

"Sodapop, you don't really have a choice. He's the one who has to clear you for release."

"So, if I don't talk to him, I'll just be stuck here?" I could feel my chest start to tighten and I backed up further. Rose stepped out from behind the desk and from the corner of my eye I saw the orderly start towards me. I stepped back further, but it wasn't more than a couple steps before I hit the wall. I pressed myself against it and watched helplessly as the orderly came closer.

"It's okay, honey." The world seemed to have dimmed and I barely heard Rose's voice.

My breath caught in my throat as I tried to back up further without any success. I gasped as all the air seemed to escape my lungs at once.

"Page Dr. Wilson."

The voice seemed miles away, but the words came through to me clearly. I felt my knees buckle and I shook my head as I fell to the floor. I didn't want to see him.

"Sodapop, stay calm." Rose's face was suddenly right in front of me. "Can you do that, Sodapop? Can you try to be calm for me?"

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to do what she wanted, but I couldn't.

"Look at me, Sodapop." Even though it seemed blurry, Rose's voice left no room for argument. "Breathe, honey. Don't think about anything else. It's just you and me here. Breathe in."

I nodded and took in a shallow breath, but it seemed to tumble out of my lungs before I could stop it.

"Good. Now another one."

I tried again and was able to get a bit more air this time. With Rose's coaching, I slowly got my breathing under control. I didn't take my eyes off her; I wasn't sure who else I might see and I didn't want o think about that.

It felt like forever before I felt able to speak again. I looked at Rose desperately. "I don't wanna talk to Dr. Wilson." My voice cracked and I struggled to take in another normal breath.

"It's okay, honey. You don't need to talk to him right now. Don't worry about it. Take my hand and we'll get you back to your room."

Rose held her hand out and I grabbed hold of it tightly. Slowly, I stood up, trying to ignore how weak my legs felt, and let her lead me down the hallway. When we reached my room, she gently guided me to the bed.

"Get some rest, honey. Don't worry about anything else right now."

I gave a slight nod and climbed onto the bed. After she left, I curled into a ball and wished with everything in me that I could turn back time.


	29. Chapter 29

I'm so sorry the updates have slowed down again. :( Between work, school, and life, time has been limited. Plus, I've felt very unfocused lately. The reviews have helped enormously, though! They're a huge motivation to keep going and find some time to write. :)

X X X

Close your eyes  
So many days go by  
Easy to find what's wrong  
Harder to find what's right  
I believe in you, I can show you  
That I can see right through all your empty lies  
I won't stay long in this world so wrong

~~Breaking Benjamin—Dance with the Devil

X X X

I stared at the numbers above the elevator, watching impatiently as they slowly ticked down from the seventh floor. My mind was still reeling from Darry's phone call the night before. It didn't make sense to me. Soda wouldn't do something like this. He'd always been a little impulsive, but he'd never do anything like this. I sighed as I realized that we couldn't count on anything anymore when it came to Soda. He was a wreck and at this point, completely unpredictable.

The elevator doors finally opened. It seemed to crawl even slower as I waited for it to reach the third floor. I'd been procrastinating coming all day; as much as I wanted to see Soda to make sure he really was okay, I had no idea what to say to him.

When the doors opened I paused for a second, trying to decide which way to turn, but the decision was quickly made for me.

"What the hell do you mean I can't see him?"

Steve's voice travelled down the hall and I quickly headed in that direction.

"You're not on the registered visitor's list. Only immediate family is allowed in." I rounded the corner just in time to see a desk clerk trying to explain this to Steve, who had his hands on the counter and was glaring at the clerk.

"I _am_ immediate family," he said, his voice dangerous.

"He is listed as having two brothers, Darrel and Ponyboy. You're neither," the clerk explained, losing patience.

"I've known him for fourteen years. I should be on that list!"

"Steve, calm down," I said, stepping forward. Steve whirled around, surprised for a second to see me before his expression became angry again.

"You're here to see Soda, too?" he asked.

"Yeah. Doesn't look like we're gonna have much luck, though," I said, eyeing the clerk. His hand was hovering over his phone and I had the bad feeling he was about to call security.

"Cause this moronic son of a bitch won't let us in!" Steve turned back to the clerk and drew his fist back, ready to fight. I ran forward and grabbed both of Steve's arms. He struggled, but I was already dragging him down the hall.

"Steve, knock it off!" I yelled as I pulled him towards the elevator. "You're gonna get yourself thrown out and you won't have a hope in hell of getting in to see Soda." He stopped struggling and I carefully let go, ready to pounce on him again if he tried anything.

"I can't believe he won't let us in," he snarled. "What do they think we're gonna do, hand Soda a gun?"

"Who knows," I said, shaking my head. "But that guy wasn't gonna change his mind."

Steve shot a glare down the hallway. "I'd love to try and make him."

The elevator arrived and I took hold of Steve's arm. "C'mon," I muttered, dragging him inside. "You have your car here?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Maybe Darry can get us added to the list."

Steve seemed to calm down some at this and nodded. "Good idea, Two-Bit. You think he's home from work yet?"

I glanced at my watch; it was almost five. "Maybe. It won't hurt to check."

Steve nodded and dug his car keys out of his jacket pocket as we reached the first floor. We drove in silence. Darry's truck was gone, but we both headed into the house anyway. It was only a matter of time before he'd be back, and there didn't seem to be much point in doing anything but wait.

We both stopped in our tracks when we found Ponyboy sitting on the couch surrounded by school books.

"What're you doing here?" Steve asked sharply.

Pony glanced up and gave Steve a confused look. "Umm, I live here?" he said uncertainly.

"I think what Steve means," I said, making myself comfortable on the other end of the couch, "is why aren't you with Darry?"

Pony shrugged. "I have homework to do."

"You have _homework_ to do?" Steve repeated, his voice rising with every word. "It's Friday night, Ponyboy. Your homework can wait. Why the hell aren't you with Darry at the hospital?"

"Cause I didn't want to go." Pony turned angrily to Steve. "How is any of your business anyway, Steve?"

"Sodapop is my best friend, that's why it's my business! I wanna know why his little brother, who's worshipped him since the day he was born, is sitting around on a Friday night doing homework instead of going to the hospital to visit him."

"If it matters so much to you, why aren't you there?" Pony spat, standing up.

"Where do you think we just came from?"

"If you're so perfect, Steve, then where the hell were you last night? Why was Soda alone?"

Steve lunged for Pony, who ducked out of the way just in time. Steve lost his balance and landed on the floor. Before he could recover, I jumped on top of him and pinned him down. Pony stepped back and gave Steve a death glare.

"Get the hell off me, Two-Bit!" Steve yelled, struggling to get up.

"Not until you promise to back off Pony," I said firmly.

"Not a chance," he growled, twisting his head around to glower at Pony. "He's got no right accusing me of anything when he's the one abandoning his own brother."

I looked up just in time to see Ponyboy come at us. I leapt up, planning to push him back, but before I had a chance Steve had shoved me out of the way. I stumbled backwards into the wall. Pony wasn't fast enough to duck Steve's punch this time, which landed on his left cheek. It was only a second before he retaliated, but Steve was the better fighter and easily avoided the hit.

I jumped into the fight and took hold of Steve. "Ponyboy, back off!" I ordered, struggling to restrain Steve. Pony glared at me, but dropped his arms and stepped back. I shoved Steve towards the door. "Get out of here. Go find Evie. Come back when you're sane."

Steve shot one last dirty look at me and Pony before storming out of the house. I hoped he would take my advice and go home to Evie. She was the only one who had a chance of talking any sense into him.

"Thanks, Two-Bit."

"Yeah, no problem," I mumbled, falling back onto the couch. "Did ya really have to piss him off that much, Pony?" I watched as his face crumpled.

"I'm sorry, Two-Bit," he said quietly, sitting back down. "I'm just so—frustrated with everything. I know it's not his fault, not really."

"Well, you might want to tell him that next time you see him." I'd never seen Steve that mad before.

Pony sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"What happened last night, anyway?"

"I'm not completely sure. Darry and I came home and Soda was lying on the kitchen floor, bleeding. Steve wasn't here. I don't know when he left Soda. I know it's not his fault, though. It's not like we haven't left Soda by himself before that."

I knew most of what he'd said already from Darry's phone call. I made a mental note to ask Steve for more details when he'd calmed down, but I had a feeling that the only person with any real answers was going to be Soda.

X X X

The hospital building towered over me as I pulled into the parking lot. I couldn't remember ever being so nervous about going in there. Soda had been an entirely different person the night before and I had no idea what to expect from him today. I wished Pony was with me; I didn't want to do this on my own.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to get out of the car and go inside. The third floor was becoming more familiar and I easily found my way to the desk I needed.

"I'm here to see Sodapop Curtis," I said to the man on the other side.

"Name?" he asked in a bored voice.

"Darrel Curtis."

I glared at the locked double doors that separated the psychiatric ward from the rest of the hospital. I didn't want to need permission to visit my own brother.

When the clerk had verified that my name was on the approved visitors list, he unlocked the doors for me and I made my way into the ward.

"Hello, Darrel."

I looked over in surprise at the nurse who'd spoken. I recognized her from this morning, but had no idea what her name was.

"Hi, umm…sorry," I trailed off and walked over to the counter she was standing behind.

"That's okay," she said, giving me a warm smile. "I'm Rose."

"Rose, right." I nodded, trying to commit the name to memory.

"I'm glad you're here. Your brother has been looking forward to your visit all day."

I felt a stab of guilt that I hadn't been able to get there sooner. "Does he know I was at work?" I didn't want him to think I just hadn't bothered to come.

"Don't worry, he knows," she reassured me. "There's something you need to know before you go see him, though."

"What happened?" I asked, instantly tensing.

"Did you want to have a seat?" she asked, gesturing to the uncomfortable looking chairs behind us.

I shook my head. "No, just tell me."

"Sodapop came out of his room for a few minutes this morning," she started. "He was okay at first, but he got very upset when I told him Dr. Wilson was coming by to talk with him. He couldn't calm down and ended up having a panic attack."

I muttered a curse and ran a hand through my hair. "How is he now?"

"He's a bit better. I talked with him and he was able to calm down without any sedatives. He's been in his room ever since. I've been in to check on him. He's calm, but he's scared. He doesn't want to stay here."

"Has Dr. Wilson talked to him yet?"

"No. He thought it would be better to wait till Sodapop saw you."

I sighed and turned in the direction of Soda's room. The door was slightly ajar and I gently pushed it open. I found him sitting cross legged on the bed, idly fiddling with the edge of the blanket. He was pale, making the scars that still circled his arms more vivid than normal. I forced myself to look away, trying not to think about them, about everything else that might have happened to him, everything else we still knew nothing about.

"Hi, Soda," I said softly, not wanting to startle him.

His head shot up and he smiled when he saw me. "Darry, you came."

"Of course I did," I said, walking over to his bed and carefully sitting on the edge. "How're you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Alright." He started rubbing the bandages around his wrist, then seemed to realize what he was doing and abruptly stopped.

We sat in awkward silence for a minute before Soda looked towards the door, a frown on his face. "Where's Pony?" he asked.

I'd known the question would come eventually, but I still hadn't figured out how to answer it. I sorted through the stories I'd come up with, but none of them seemed believable. Before I managed to settle on one, Soda stopped me.

"He's still mad, isn't he?" His gaze was locked on his hands and I sighed.

"Yeah. But he'll come around. He won't stay mad forever." I hoped I was right. Soda wouldn't make it through this if he lost Ponyboy.

He nodded. When he finally looked up, tears glistened in his eyes. "I wanna go home, Dare."

"You know you have to talk to Dr. Wilson, right?" I asked. I was stalling, hoping to avoid breaking the news that he'd have to stay here another couple of days. Soda shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the doctor.

"I know. But after that?" he asked hopefully.

I sighed, knowing I couldn't put it off any longer. "You have to stay here till Sunday night. Then I can take you home."

Soda's eyes widened. "Sunday? Why can't I go home tonight?"

"It's hospital policy. They have to keep you here seventy-two hours. They're already bending the rules a few hours by releasing you Sunday night."

"I'm not gonna do anything! Can't they just let me out?"

"It's the rules, Soda," I explained gently. "They can't change them just for you."

"I'll talk to the doctor. I won't walk out on him this time. Shouldn't that be enough?" He was getting more agitated by the second and I started to realize I wasn't helping at all.

"I'm sorry, Pepsi, I don't have a choice. It's just a couple of days, and I promise I'll come visit."

"So you're just going to leave me here?" he asked incredulously.

"Soda, you tried to kill yourself. Like it or not, you gotta face the consequences." Getting frustrated, I got up to leave, but before I made it to the door, Soda had a few parting words for me.

"Fuck you, Darry," he growled.

I stopped, but I didn't turn around. If I did, I'd either end up apologizing or throttling him, and I didn't want to do either. Instead, I forced myself to walk out the door without a backwards glance.

X X X

Please review! They really do mean the world :)


	30. Chapter 30

Thank you everyone who reviewed! I reply to a lot of the reviews I get, but I unfortunately can't do that with anon reviews (not that I mind anon!), so I wanted to take a sec and thank Outsiders Forever for the exceptionally long review. You should've seen the smile on my face when I saw it. :) And don't worry, Soda/Pony interaction is coming.

I wrote a lot of this chapter on my ipod, then transferred it over. I think I've caught all the typos, but I apologize if I missed any.

X X X

You were everything to me

~~Hedley—Bones Shatter

X X X

I sped through the streets towards my house, swearing as another driver cut me off. I couldn't believe the nerve Pony had, accusing me of abandoning Sodapop. It was like Evie'd said—there was no way I could've known what he was gonna do. Pony was the one abandoning him. He was lucky Two-Bit had been there to stop me or he would've had a lot worse than a bruised cheek.

It didn't take long to reach our apartment's parking lot. I slammed my car door shut and stormed inside, not caring how much noise I was making. I wanted to go out somewhere, anywhere, and blow off some steam, but I knew Two-Bit was right. If I went out right now I'd end up doing something I'd regret. I needed Evie. Unlocking our apartment I said a silent prayer of thanks when I found her inside making dinner.

"Hi, Steve." She turned to face me and immediately her face filled with concern. "What's wrong? Is it Sodapop?"

"No, it's his immature brat of a little brother," I growled, throwing my coat onto the couch and kicking off my shoes.

"Ponyboy?" Evie said in confusion. "I know he was upset this morning, but he seemed like he'd calmed down some when he left."

"Well, he didn't."

"I'm sure he didn't mean whatever he said," she tried, but I shook my head.

"I don't even care about what he said. I know he's just venting. But he's refusing to go visit Soda. His brother needs him, and he's just sitting at home doing homework." I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and popped the cap off. "The fucking hospital staff wouldn't even let me and Two-Bit in to see Soda, and here Pony has the chance and he won't take it."

"Did you think about it from his point of view?"

I frowned at Evie's question. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, have you thought about what Pony's going through?"

"He's going through the same thing we all are, but none of the rest of us have decided to give up."

Putting down the knife she'd been using to chop vegetables, Evie leaned against the counter and watched me carefully. "No, he's not going through the same thing, at least not the same thing as you. Think about it, Steve. Soda was missing for three months. We all thought he was dead. You didn't, though. You had no idea he was gone until after he was already found. Pony's already had to grieve for his brother once and he's terrified that he's going to have to go through that again."

As her words slowly sunk in, I realized she was right; I hadn't lost Soda the first time. I had always worried that something might happen to him, but I'd never been told that he was gone.

"Shit." I shook my head, trying to figure out how I'd been so stupid. I still thought Pony was being selfish, but I couldn't blame him quite as much anymore. As angry as I was at Soda, Pony was probably twice as furious.

"Hey," Evie said softly, moving closer and wrapping her arms around me. "It'll be okay."

I nodded and pulled her closer.

X X X

After Darry left, I stayed in my room, not wanting to have to see anyone. I couldn't blame him for walking out like he did. I knew I wasn't being fair to him. I should've just been happy that he came to visit at all. It wasn't his fault he couldn't take me home. It was my fault. Everything lately was my fault.

"Sodapop?"

My head shot up at the unexpected voice. Dr. Wilson stood in the doorway, clipboard in hand. I instantly felt myself tense up. I didn't want to talk. I didn't know what questions he would spring on me this time, but I doubted they'd be good. I wondered if he knew about my blowup. I hoped Darry had kept it to himself; this "conversation" was going to be bad enough without it.

When I didn't say anything, Dr. Wilson took a few steps into the room. "Are you ready to talk?" he asked.

Of course I wasn't, but I nodded anyway. "I guess."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that." He sat down in the chair beside my bed and I scooted back a few inches. It wasn't that I didn't trust him, I just didn't like him.

"Would you like to tell me why you're here, Sodapop?"

I tried to rest the urge to glare at him. It wasn't like he didn't already know. "Cause…"

_Cause I'm an impulsive idiot who can't seem to do anything right anymore._

"Cause I tried to kill myself," I finally finished quietly.

He made a small noise of approval and scribbled something on his clipboard. "Now, you were quite upset when I saw you earlier this week, but my first impression of you would not have been suicidal. What changed?"

I kept my gaze glued on my hands, which were occupied in fiddling with the blanket. I knew I had to talk to him, at least a little. I didn't know if they would keep me here if I didn't, but I didn't want to take that chance.

"Last night I was out with some friends. I was tired so I decided to head home early. I was waiting for the bus when—when this guy started talking to me. He wanted me to go home with him and…I dunno. I guess I just lost it."

"I see," he said, continuing to write.

A sudden thought occurred to me and I looked up in panic. "You're not going to tell my brothers, are you?" If they knew what happened, they would wonder why it had bothered me so much. They were both smart enough to figure it out, and that thought terrified me.

"No. Anything you say here is kept between us. But, you should tell them. It might help you."

I looked back down to my hands wordlessly. It wouldn't help, but it was useless to try and tell that to this guy. He thought he had all the answers, that it was all so easy.

"What about when you leave here?" he asked.

"I'm not gonna try it again, if that's what you're thinking," I answered quickly. I forced myself to meet his eyes, desperate for him to believe me.

"And how would you do it if you did try again?"

I frowned in confusion. What the hell was he getting at? "I don't know," muttered. "I'm obviously not very good at it."

He frowned at this, but didn't comment on it. "You understand that I still can't release you until Sunday evening?" He sounded almost bored, like this happened every day and was just routine.

I nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"Good. Is there anything else you want to discuss?" I shook my head. Making one final note on his clipboard, he stood up. "I'll be in tomorrow to check on you if you change your mind," he said before leaving.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was glad to have that conversation over with and was even more relieved that he seemed to believe me. I just had to get through the next two days, then I could go home.

X X X

I left the hospital quickly, barely acknowledging Rose's goodbye. It was taking all my self control not to go running back to Soda's room and scream at him. The only thing that kept me from giving in to that was knowing that despite all the hell he was putting us through, he had to be going through worse.

When I pulled into the driveway I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself to face my youngest brother. The hurt look on Soda's face when he realized Pony hadn't come with me flashed through my mind and I tried to bite back my anger. I was just as furious as Pony; he had no right to stay away from Sodapop.

I ran a hand through my hair and forced myself to calm down before heading into the house. I felt myself relax when I saw Two-Bit sitting on the couch with Ponyboy; a buffer was exactly what I needed right then.

"Hi, Darry," Pony said when he heard me come in. As he looked up, I immediately saw the bruise forming on his cheek.

"Pony, what happened?" I asked, hurrying over to him to get a better look.

"Nothing," he muttered, avoiding my eyes.

"What happened?" I repeated, turning to Two-Bit.

"Really, Darry. It was nothing. We were just goofing around and got a little carried away."

Pony's expression suddenly became angry. "No, Two-Bit. He should know what really happened. It was Steve," he said, turning to me.

"Why would Steve punch you?" I'd been expecting to hear that Pony had been jumped or gotten into a fight at school. I didn't like either of those options, but at least they made some sort of sense.

"Cause he didn't like what I had to say about last night."

I stared at him in confusion for a minute before I realized what he meant. "Pony, you can't blame Steve for what happened," I said with a sigh.

"So you're going to take his side?" Pony stood up and glared at me.

"He's not taking anyone's side, Ponyboy," Two-Bit spoke up. "You know it wasn't Steve's fault."

"I don't care!" Pony yelled. "He could at least try to support me."

"Like how you're supporting Soda right now?"

I wished I could take it back the second I said it. Pony stared at me, his mouth hanging open in shock. I sighed and took a step towards my brother. "Pone—"

Before I could say anything else, Pony had taken off down the hall. I winced as the sound of his door slamming reverberated through the room.

"Dammit," I muttered, collapsing on the couch next to Two-Bit.

"He'll come around, Dare." Two-Bit squeezed my shoulder and tried to give me an encouraging smile, but it didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Thanks," I said, repressing another sigh. "How's Steve holding up?" A small part of me was mad at him for punching my brother, but with the way Pony had been acting today, I had the feeling he'd deserved it.

"About as well as the kid. I wouldn't leave them alone together for a while," he advised, though without his usual humor. I nodded, knowing he was right. "How's Soda?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head, not even sure how to answer. "God, I don't know. He's completely messed up right now. He's pissed that I wouldn't take him home, but I think that'll go away once he's out of there. He's just…I don't know," I said again, defeated.

"He needs time," Two-Bit said.

"We've given him time!" I snapped in frustration. "We gave him time and look where it got us!"

"I know." He paused for a minute. "Steve and I went to see him today, but they wouldn't let us in. Any chance you can get us added to the guest list?"

"No. I already asked and they said immediate family only. I tried saying you guys were cousins, but they said it wasn't good enough."

"Right. Thanks for trying, anyway."

"Yeah, no problem."

We lapsed into silence for a while before Two-Bit spoke up again. "He'll make it through this, Darry."

I gave my friend a small smile. "I hope you're right, Two-Bit. I really hope you're right."

X X X

For the record, I know that Dr. Wilson is a horrible psychiatrist. It's done very much on purpose.

I'm working a crazy long shift tomorrow and I'd love to come home to reviews…hint hint. :)


	31. Chapter 31

I know it was a little longer between updates this time. Sorry. :( I was actually going to update last night, but my computer crashed. (And then somehow miraculously fixed itself! But not before I spent two hours trying to figure out what was wrong.)

Many thanks again to everyone who reviewed! You guys are the best. :)

X X X

I am not here, I'm not listening  
I'm in my head and I'm spinning

~~30 Seconds to Mars—Fallen

X X X

I couldn't sleep. I was exhausted from being at the hospital and getting no sleep the night before, but I was wide awake anyway. I rolled over to look at the clock and groaned when I saw it was nearly three in the morning. My mind kept going back to the argument I'd had with Darry, his words echoing in my head. I wanted to be there for Soda, but I just couldn't make myself do it this time. All I'd done since he'd gotten home was try to be there for him and he'd pushed me away every single time.

"_I'm glad you came home, Soda. I couldn't stand it if you had never come back."_

"_I wouldn't ever want to leave you, Pony."_

The memory flashed through my mind and I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to forget.

"_I know it was stupid. But when I came home and you weren't here, it was almost…almost like you'd never come home at all." _

"_Pony, I'm here. I'm home, and I'm not going anywhere."_

Soda had said he'd be there for me, he'd promised. Why couldn't he have kept that promise? If he'd died in Vietnam I could've forgiven him; at least then I would've known it wasn't his fault. But I wasn't sure I could trust him anymore. He could've talked to me, to any of us. God knows we'd bent over backwards for him.

With a sigh of frustration, I rolled over again only to find myself staring at the empty space where Soda was supposed to be. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore it, but it was like a presence in itself. I opened my eyes and glared at Soda's pillow, willing it go away. When nothing happened, I grabbed it and threw it across the room. There was a small thud as it hit the wall and I gave a satisfied smile at the spot where it used to be. The brief feeling of victory didn't last long before the void made itself known again.

I jumped up and turned on the light, then threw open the dresser and starting tossing my stuff on the bed. I searched through everything, making sure I didn't leave anything behind. I had just gathered the last of my things together when the bedroom door opened and Darry walked in. He squinted at the light and gave me a confused look.

"What're you doing, Pone?" he mumbled.

"What's it look like?" I asked, throwing my clothes into an old duffel bag. "I'm leaving."

That woke Darry up fast. "What? Ponyboy, you're sixteen!"

I stared at him for s second before I realized what he was thinking. "Relax Dare. I'm not moving out of the house. Just here. I'm going back to my old room." I thought this would calm Darry down since it wasn't some crisis situation anymore, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

"What the hell do you mean, you're going back to your old room?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes icy.

"I mean, I'm taking my stuff and moving it across the hall. I'm not staying here." I picked up the duffel bag and moved towards the doorway, but Darry blocked it.

"Pony, you can't move. Soda's gonna expect you to be here when he gets home."

I shrugged. "So? He hasn't exactly been following through with stuff lately. Why should I?" I tried to move around Darry, but he stood firm.

"He's your brother, Pony. He was there for you when you had your nightmares after Mom and Dad died. He let you move in here. He stayed up with you every night, no matter what. Now he needs you. Don't you dare leave him."

"I _have_ been there for him, Darry," I said, trying to keep my voice as steady as his. "He had nightmares and I was there for him. He needed someone's hand to hold and I was there. Anything he needed and I was there. And how does he thank me? He tries to fucking kill himself. So tell me, why the hell should I stick around for a brother who's willing to throw away everything I tried to do for him?"

Darry stayed in the doorway, silent. I waited for the outburst, the lecture, whatever might be coming, but it never did. "Fine, Pony," he muttered, turning and going back to his room. "Do whatever you want. I hope you can live with the consequences." The door closed quietly behind him.

Anger coursed through me at Darry's words. I couldn't believe he was trying to guilt trip me. I shook my head, trying to clear it. It didn't matter, it wouldn't work. I couldn't stay in Soda's room any longer, no matter what Darry said. I quickly threw the duffel bag in my old room and headed back to get the rest of my things. After bringing them across the hall and dumping them onto the floor, I went back to Soda's room to make sure I hadn't left anything behind. I took a quick glance around, decided I had everything, and turned to leave. I was about to switch off the light when a picture on top of the dresser caught my eye. Darry had taken it a couple years ago; Soda had me tackled to the ground and was mercilessly tickling me. My face was bright red; I remembered that I was laughing so hard I'd barely been able to breathe. It had been the first time after Johnny and Dally had died that'd I'd really enjoyed myself. I glared at the picture and turned it facedown before leaving and closing the door behind me.

X X X

The room was too dark. The door to the hallway was open a few inches and I kept my gaze locked on the small pool of light that made its way into the room, but I still couldn't ignore the darkness that was pressing in on me. It had been hours since Rose had come and told me it was the mandatory lights out time, but I couldn't get to sleep. I wished that Darry was allowed to stay overnight, that I hadn't chased him away, that Pony had come with him. I wished I'd let Steve go home with me last night instead of insisting I was fine.

I didn't care what the rules were, I couldn't stand the dark anymore. I threw back the blankets and made my way out of the room. Rose was sitting at the desk in the common area. She glanced up when she saw me and gave me a look of concern.

"Everything okay, Sodapop?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I just can't sleep." I didn't want to go into all the details of why.

"It's hard to get used to some place new," she said with an understanding smile. "Do you want me to have a doctor give you something to help?"

I shook my head. "No, that's okay." I didn't think needing drugs to help me sleep would be a very good sign that I was ready to go home. "Can I just stay out here for a while?"

She smiled at my sympathetic ally. "You're not supposed to be out of your room at night. Besides, you need some rest. You look exhausted."

"Please?" I asked, trying not to sound desperate. "Just a few minutes. I promise."

Rose was silent for a minute, studying me, before she sighed. "Alright, but just for a few minutes. Dr. Wilson won't like it if I let you stay up half the night."

I resisted the urge to make a face. The only reason I cared what Dr. Wilson thought was cause I needed him to let me out of here. "Thanks," I said, smiling. She nodded and leaned back in her chair. For the first time I noticed how tired she looked. "How long is your shift here, anyway?" I asked her.

"Normally shifts are twelve hours, but I'm covering for one of the other girls," she explained, taking a sip of coffee. "It's her anniversary and she couldn't get it off."

I shifted, feeling a little guilty that I was actually happy she was stuck here that long. I doubted the other nurse would've let me hang out with her. "That's a long day for you."

"It's nothing I haven't done before," she said, shrugging.

"So, what do you do to keep busy? It doesn't seem like much happens here at night." The hall was empty except for us and I wasn't sure how anyone could stay awake when it was so quiet.

"Well, it's not always like this," she said, frowning a little. "If a patient acts up we keep pretty busy. But we always bring reading material incase it's quiet like this." She pointed to a small pile of magazines and novels on the edge of the desk.

"Got anything good there?"

She laughed lightly. "Probably nothing you're interested in. It's mostly fashion magazines and romance novels." She rifled through them before pulling out a couple of books. "These might be okay, if you're interested," she said, handing them over to me. "At the very least, they might put you to sleep."

I wasn't much of a reader, but she had a point that they might be a good substitute for sleeping pills. The first book was _Gulliver's Travels_; judging from the cover, I thought it might not be too bad. I set it aside and froze when I saw the title of the second book. It was a different cover than Pony's copy of _Gone With the Wind_, but the familiarity of it hit home just the same.

"You okay?" Rose asked, noticing my reaction.

"Umm, yeah. I'm fine. It's just—this is my brother's favorite book." I'd never understood why Pony loved it so much, but he'd read it so many times that the cover was practically falling off. Whenever I would ask him he'd just shrug and say that he liked the story.

"Well, it's yours for the next couple of days if you want it," she offered. "Sodapop, you should go back to bed. Why don't you read for a few minutes? Try and relax a little. I'll check on you in a while."

I nodded absentmindedly, eyes still locked on the book. "Yeah, sure." I headed back to my room and closed the door behind me. There had to be a reason why Pony liked this book so damned much. After a few pages, though, I couldn't figure it out. Scarlett seemed like a spoiled Soc to me; why would Pony want to read about that? I sighed and plunged on, determined to figure it out.

X X X

_I struggled against the arms restraining me. They were pulling me towards a building and I didn't want to go there. I'd die in that building._

"_You're not the only one who'll die in there."_

_The voice seemed to come from everywhere. I looked around wildly, trying to find it, but all I could see was the endless jungle. I tried to pull my arms free, but I couldn't get them to budge. Before I knew it, we were inside the building. The door slammed shut, the sound echoing and filling the entire space._

"_You'll never leave. You'll never get out of here," the disembodied voice spoke again._

_I felt the tears start, knowing it was right. The walls closed in as I was dragged down the narrow hallway. A guard waited outside a cell door, watching me carefully. I bit back a sob. I knew what he wanted, and I knew he'd get it, no matter how much I fought. _

_As I was tossed into the dark cell, he followed me in. I backed into the corner, but he matched every move I made. As he came closer, I tried to move my arms in front of me so I could block him, but they were tied tightly behind my back. I pulled at them, trying desperately to free them, but the more I struggled the tighter the ropes became. The guard pinned me down and I watched helplessly while he pulled my clothes off. _

_Laughter came from the corner of the room. I strained to see who it was, but the shadowy figure stayed just out of sight. "Please help me!" I begged. _

_The figure took a step closer, coming into the light just enough that I could make out the burned, blistered skin that covered his body._

"_Why should I help you when you didn't help me?"_

I shot straight up in bed, sweat covered and gasping for breath. It wasn't real. I was in Tulsa. I was in the hospital, but I was safe. It was a dream, just a dream.

"But it wasn't _really_ a dream, was it?"

Every muscle in my body froze. The putrid smell of burned flesh flooded my senses and I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to choke back the scream that was rising in my throat.

"Go ahead, scream. It doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere."

The voice was coming from the shadows and for the first time I realized the room was dark again. Rose must have turned the light off after I'd fallen asleep. A bit of light filtered in from the hallway, but it didn't reach past the first couple feet of the room. I couldn't see it, but I knew the corpse was between me and the door. My heart hammered as I realized I was trapped.

"It's funny that you'd end up here," it drawled, coming closer. I stumbled out of bed and backed up blindly. I felt myself hit the corner of the room and I squeezed my eyes closed, knowing I had nowhere else to go. "You really just went from one cell to another. And it's all your own fault." The corpse had moved steadily closer until I could feel its rancid breath on my face.

I let out a whimper and slid down the wall, huddling in a ball. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Really, everything is your fault. You got yourself caught. You didn't cooperate with Vo. You didn't save me."

"I'm sorry!" The words were barely audible, but I knew it heard them.

"You deserved everything you got. _Everything_." A rotting finger traced my lips and I felt my tears start to fall. "It's no wonder your own brother won't even talk to you. He knows you're not worth it."

"Please stop," I whispered.

"They'll never forgive you. Why should they?"

Suddenly it was bright. I squinted against the blaring light, blinded.

"Sodapop, can you hear me?"

The burning smell was gone. I slowly realized someone had come into the room and turned on the lights.

"Soda?" The voice called again. I finally managed to focus and looked up to see Rose hovering over me. "Sodapop, are you alright?"

I hugged my knees tightly and shook my head. Rose sat down on the floor beside me and pulled me towards her. "Tell me what happened, Hon," she said gently.

"It was—I had a nightmare." I couldn't tell her the rest. She'd think I was crazy.

"It's okay, Hon," she soothed. "It's okay. It was just a dream."

I closed my eyes and nodded, trying to convince myself she was right.


	32. Chapter 32

Sorry it's been a little longer than normal for an update. I was sick (again) and couldn't make myself focus on writing at all. (Lori, if you're reading this, the tea worked wonders!) Thank you so much to all those who reviewed! I actually got a really good idea from one of them… :)

X X X

I've become  
The simple souvenir of someone's kill  
And like the sea  
I'm constantly changing from calm to ill  
Madness fills my heart and soul  
As if the great divide could swallow me whole

~~City and Color—The Sleeping Sickness

X X X

I woke up with a start as the front door slammed. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was only quarter to eight. I groaned and forced myself to crawl out of bed, swearing to sucker punch whoever was making such a racket at this time on a Saturday. When I got to the living room though, it was empty. After checking the kitchen and finding it just as deserted, I frowned in confusion. With a sigh, I decided to pass it off as a dream. I'd hardly slept the past two nights and any sleep I had gotten had been restless as hell.

Figuring I may as well start breakfast since I was up, I headed to the fridge. When I saw there was only a small sliver of chocolate cake left, I stopped short. I'd checked the night before to make sure there was enough for this morning. I didn't really care, but I wanted to keep things as normal as I could. I slammed the fridge door shut as I realized I hadn't imagined the front door slamming; Ponyboy had taken off as early as he could. I hadn't been particularly hungry to begin with, but now any appetite I'd had was gone.

"Morning, Darry."

I jumped, startled by the unexpected voice. "Christ, Steve. Make some noise when you come in," I grumbled.

"Sorry, didn't meant to scare you," he said, looking a little sheepish.

I waved him off. "It doesn't matter. What're you doing here so early, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. The kid up yet?"

"He's already gone." I could hear the frustration in my voice, but I couldn't hide it; I was too drained.

Steve frowned and looked at his watch. "Where the hell did he go? It's barely eight."

"I have no idea." I sighed, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table. Steve's eyes darkened at my answer, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he joined me at the table.

"You going to see Soda today?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. And I can't get you in," I added, cutting off what he was going to say next. He scowled, but shut his mouth. It was frustrating not being able to get Steve and Two-Bit added to the visitor's list. It would probably be good for Soda to have the support, especially with Ponyboy refusing to see him.

"I got Soda's shifts covered," Steve offered, changing the topic.

"Did you tell anyone what happened?"

He shook his head. "No, I just said he had the flu. You think he'll be back by Wednesday?"

I leaned my elbows on the table and groaned. "I don't know. I don't really want him going back at all, at least not for a while, but I doubt he'll listen to me. He hasn't for anything else."

Steve didn't say anything, but I knew he agreed with me. I also knew Soda wouldn't listen to him anymore than he would for me.

X X X

After Steve left, I spent the morning scrubbing the house clean. Not able to stand the silence, I kept the radio and television on while I worked. Despite keeping myself busy, time seemed to crawl. My visit with Soda the day before had barely been more than ten minutes and I was anxious to see him. With how upset he'd been, staying longer would've been pointless, but I still felt guilty for leaving so quickly. When the clock finally hit quarter to twelve, I sighed and grabbed my coat, nervous about what state I might find my brother in.

When I stepped outside, Tim Shepherd was making his way up the driveway. "Hi, Darry," he said, nodding to me.

"Hi, Tim," I answered, giving him a puzzled look. He didn't come by our place very often since Dally had died.

"You got a minute? I need to talk to you."

I sighed and nodded. I wanted to get to the hospital, but I knew Tim wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. He walked past me and let himself into the house; not having much choice, I followed behind him. He stopped in the living room and turned to face me. "What's going on?" I asked.

"It's about Sodapop."

I narrowed my eyes, already not liking where this was going. Soda was giving me enough trouble right now without Tim Shepherd being thrown into the mix. "What about him?"

"You know I'm not usually one to rat someone out, but I figured you had a right to know 'bout this." Tim watched my reaction before continuing. "Thursday night your brother came over to my house. He was upset about something, but he wouldn't say what. He asked me for a gun."

Tim's words hit me like a bullet. Soda had tried to get a gun. He'd planned to shoot himself.

In a daze, I stumbled over to the couch just in time for my knees to collapse out from under me. What Pony and I had come home to Thursday night had been bad enough. Now, images of Soda lying dead on the kitchen floor, his brain splattered over the wall and a gun at his side played out in my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block them out.

"I'll take it he didn't tell you about our little chat?"

I felt the couch sink next to me and I opened my eyes to find Tim studying me. "No, he sure didn't," I said quietly, more to myself than to him.

"Look, I don't know what he wanted the gun for. As far as I've heard, he's pretty much kept to himself since he got home."

"I know exactly what he wanted it for." Tim cocked his head to the side, waiting for me to continue. "That night, Pony and I came home to find Soda bleeding to death. He'd slit his wrists. The gun must've been his first choice, and when you didn't give it to him he used whatever he could find."

Tim let out a low whistle. "Is he okay?"

I sighed. "He's alive, but I wouldn't say he's okay. He's still in the hospital. They have a seventy-two hour holding policy for suicide patients."

"Who else knows?" he asked.

"Just Steve and Two-Bit. Probably Evie, if Steve told her. We're not exactly making it public." Tim nodded in understanding. I knew he wouldn't say anything.

"You have any idea why he did it?"

I shook my head. "No. He hasn't been very talkative. Have you told anyone else about him asking for the gun?"

"No. I figured you should know, but it ain't none of my business who you tell." He stood up to leave and I followed suit, heading to the front door.

"Thanks, Tim. I appreciate you coming to me."

He shrugged. "Like I said, you deserved to know."

I suppressed a groan as I watched him leave. I knew I had to confront Sodapop about this, but it was the last thing I wanted to do, especially after my less than stellar visit with him yesterday. Deciding there was no point in putting off the inevitable, I headed out to the truck. Tim's revelation kept playing in my head as I drove to the hospital and by the time I reached the psych ward, I was fuming. Soda had claimed he was sorry, that he hadn't meant to hurt himself, but it was all lies. He'd had time to get from Tim's house to ours and he'd still gone through with it; it hadn't been a split second decision.

As I entered the locked double doors of the ward, the nurse behind the desk looked up at me. "Who are you here to see, Sir?"

I gritted my teeth, annoyed at the formalities of the building. "Sodapop Curtis," I said, hoping that was all she wanted to know.

"Before you go in, you should know he had a bad night."

Despite my anger, I felt the familiar worry creep over me. "What happened?" I asked.

"According to the nurse who was with him last night, she went in to check on him at six this morning. He was in the corner of his room and was very agitated. All he would tell her is that he'd had a nightmare. He's refused to come out of his room all morning."

I swore under my breath. "Can I still see him?" She nodded and I quickly headed to his room. The door was open and I stepped in quietly, not sure what to expect.

Sodapop was curled up on his side on the bed, staring vacantly at the wall. His face was pale, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out and as I stepped closer, I could see tear tracks that still stained his cheeks from earlier. "Soda?" I asked softly. He didn't show any sign that he'd heard me. "Sodapop?" I tried again, taking another cautious step towards him. He didn't move and I hesitated, trying to decide what to do. I knew startling him would be a bad idea, so I carefully sat down on the chair beside his bed. "Soda? It's Darry. Can you hear me?"

He blinked, and slowly his eyes met mine. They were haunted, not a trace of the carefree younger brother I used to know showing in them. All thoughts of confronting him about the gun flew out of my mind. "Darry?" His voice was barely a whisper and I would've passed it off as my imagination if I hadn't seen his lips move.

"Yeah, it's me, Soda." I took hold of his hand, hoping it was the right thing to do, and sighed in relief when his fingers curled lightly around mine.

"I wanna go home."

"I know, Pepsi," I said quietly. "Tomorrow. I promise you can come home tomorrow."

Soda nodded, not bothering to argue. His outburst yesterday had scared me, but somehow this was worse. It was like he'd given up.

"What happened, Soda?" I asked. The nurse had said it was a nightmare, but he'd had nightmares before and they'd never left him like this.

"Nothing." He turned his eyes towards our clasped hands.

"Don't lie to me, Sodapop." He let out a small whimper and I squeezed his hand. "C'mon, Pepsi. Talk to me," I urged softly.

"I don't like the dark," he whispered. I frowned, not sure what to make of that. It wasn't exactly an explanation, but he didn't seem to plan on adding any more to it.

"Alright, I'll ask the nurse to make sure it's not dark. Okay?" He gave a small nod, but stayed silent. I was starting to get scared at his lack of response. This place seemed like it was hurting him more than helping. "Have you eaten today?"

He gave a small shake of his head.

"You've gotta eat, little buddy. I'm sure they have food here somewhere," I joked lightly. He didn't say anything and I sighed. "Soda, get up. You need to eat."

There was a pause before he spoke up quietly. "Will you come with me?" He looked up at me fearfully.

"Of course I will." I smiled at him and he pushed himself into a sitting position, keeping a tight hold of my hand. "Good. Now let's go get you some food."

He followed me as I guided him out of the room to the Nurse's Station. "You got him to come out," the nurse said, giving me a surprised look. "It's good to see you up, Sodapop."

"He said he hasn't eaten yet. Can he get some lunch?"

"Of course," she said and nodded to the orderly standing nearby. "Dan will take you to the cafeteria."

The cafeteria turned out to be a small room at the end of the hallway with nothing more than a few tables and chairs. There were a half dozen other patients scattered around the room. A couple of them were talking to each other, but most seemed to be keeping to themselves. I led Soda to an empty table. He was a bit more alert than he had been, but was still keeping quiet. When the nurse saw us, she disappeared into another room for a minute before coming back with a tray of food. I thanked her as she placed it in front of Soda, who slowly started to pick at it.

"Maybe we can stop by for some burgers on the way home tomorrow night," I suggested. Soda didn't say anything and I sighed. "Steve and Two-Bit wanted to come see you," I said, hoping to get a response out of him. His eyes darted up to me and I saw a small flicker of hope in them. "They're both worried about you. The hospital won't let them come in, though."

"Why not?" he asked, looking back down at his food.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Rules, I guess."

Soda nodded and silently kept eating. He'd only finished half of the food when he pushed it away, apparently finished. I wanted him to eat more, but I also didn't want to push him. I stood up and took his arm, leading him back out to the hallway. Not wanting to take him back to his room, I brought him to the couch by the T.V. An old episode of Bonanza was playing and I figured it was as good of a distraction for him as any. Once we were both sitting, Soda curled his legs under himself and leaned against me.

We sat there for the rest of the afternoon. Soda gave the occasional one word answer to my attempts at conversation, but for the most part he was silent. It wasn't until the nurse came to tell us visiting hours were over that Soda came out of his stupor.

"Already?" he cried when he heard I had to leave.

"It's been a few hours, Soda. They want to make sure you get some rest."

He grabbed hold of my arm and shook his head. "No, I don't want you to go." His eyes started to tear up and I pulled him into a hug.

"It'll be okay, Pepsi. I'll be back tomorrow and I'll take you home." Soda let out a sob and tightened his hold on me. "I'll make sure they leave your door open tonight, alright? It won't be dark."

"Promise?" he asked.

"I promise," I soothed, rubbing his back. "Come on, I'll take you back to your room and get you settled."

Soda nodded and slowly stood up, staying as close to me as possible. I kept my arms around him as I brought him back to his room, trying to ignore the small sniffles he couldn't hide.

"You'll be back tomorrow?" he asked, curling up on the bed.

"I'll be back tomorrow. You just have a few more hours here." I squeezed his hand and got up, pausing at the door to look back at him. He stared after me sadly, but he didn't protest again. I smiled, hoping it would make him feel a bit better, before quickly turning to go.

X X X

Please, please review!


	33. Chapter 33

Long wait again, I know. :( But it's an extra long chapter! :)

Happy Easter, everyone!

X X X

I hate the way you look at me  
As if I was broken  
And the perfection of my frailty  
Has been questioned and broken

~~Hedley—Gunnin'

X X X

As I heard the double doors of the psych ward close behind me, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. Christ, Soda was in bad shape. He barely seemed more competent than a five year old. What I couldn't understand was, what could have possibly happened to make him so upset?

"Mr. Curtis?"

My eyes snapped open at the sound of my name being called. Dr. Wilson was standing a few feet away, watching me.

"Hello, sir," I said, shaking his hand in an effort to be polite.

"Do you have a minute, Darrel? I'd like to talk to you about your brother's progress."

I suppressed a sigh. I didn't want to deal with him right now. "Yeah, I have a minute."

He led me down the hall to his office. I shivered as we passed through the waiting room; it had been less than a week since we'd brought Soda here, hoping he would talk and maybe start to heal. Doubts flickered in the back of my mind: should we have forced Soda to go to a doctor sooner? Should we have forced him at all, despite how violent his nightmares had gotten? Was it his visit with Dr. Wilson that had pushed him to try to kill himself, or was it a coincidence?

Once we were seated in his office, Dr. Wilson started right in. "You might have noticed that Sodapop's condition has deteriorated since he was admitted."

I gritted my teeth at his business-like tone. It seemed that to him, my brother was just another case file. "Yeah, I've noticed. It's sorta hard to miss."

"He has made very little effort when I've gone to talk with him and this morning he was almost non responsive. He does not seem to be taking his recovery seriously."

I gripped the armrests of the chair, trying to keep my temper in check. How dare this pathetic excuse for a doctor blame his ineffectiveness on Soda? "Well, he's going home tomorrow. Maybe that will help," I said, wondering if he would catch my meaning.

"That's what I wanted to discuss with you."

I tensed, realizing I was going to like this conversation even less than I'd thought. "What do you mean?"

"Given Sodapop's fragile mental state, I'm not convinced he won't try to hurt himself again. His behavior has been erratic; he's calm one minute and violent the next. He needs constant supervision in order to ensure his safety."

"Are you saying you won't release him?" I asked in disbelief. Soda wasn't an animal. They couldn't keep him in the hospital against his will, could they?

"I'm saying I don't recommend it. If you want your brother to get better, it's best if he remains in a supervised program. Now, the psychiatric ward in this hospital is designed for short term care only. However, there are several facilities nearby that he could be transferred to." I gawked at him as he pulled a pile of pamphlets out of a desk drawer. "If money is an issue, this hospital is run by the state," he said, indicating the top pamphlet. "It's unfortunately in Oklahoma City, but the drive is still very manageable for a weekend visit."

I swallowed hard, trying to digest everything he was telling me. He wanted me to put Soda in a mental institution. He wanted me to lock my brother away in some dingy hospital with underpaid, overworked staff who couldn't care less about him.

"You don't need to make a decision tonight, but I urge you to consider your options before Sodapop's checkout time tomorrow."

Not able to form a coherent sentence, I nodded. Dr. Wilson handed the pamphlets to me and I silently took them. My mind was reeling as I left the hospital. The last thing I wanted to do was lock Soda away, especially after seeing how badly just a few days in the hospital had affected him. I didn't think it could do him any good, but I couldn't stop wondering if Dr. Wilson was right; Soda wasn't stable and I wasn't sure that he wouldn't try to hurt himself again. I'd never forgive myself if we lost him.

I sighed. I needed to talk to someone. Ponyboy was out of the question. Even if he was home, he'd probably tell me to ship Soda out of the country if it meant he didn't have to deal him. There was only one other person I really trusted to be honest with me on this.

I took a right at the next light and covered the last few blocks as quickly as I dared. After parking, I spied Steve in the DX garage and I quickly headed over, thankful that he was working on the cars this shift and would have some time to talk. When he saw me, he instantly stopped what he was doing; I didn't usually come by the DX unless Soda was working.

"Hey, Darry. What's up?"

"Do you have a minute, Steve?"

He nodded and led me around the back of the building. I sat down heavily on one of the overturned milk crates, Steve copying me and pulling out a pack of smokes. I shook my head when he offered me one, but changed my mind a second later. Steve frowned as I lit up, knowing something had to be seriously wrong. I thought for a minute, trying to decide how to broach the subject, before finally deciding there wasn't any good way to do it.

"Soda's doctor wants me to send him to a state hospital."

Steve's mouth dropped open and his cigarette fell from his hand. He swore as it landed on his foot, singeing the top of his shoe. "Is he fucking serious?" he asked, quickly picking his smoke up.

I nodded and took a long drag on my own cigarette."He gave me pamphlets. He's recommending one in Oklahoma City."

"You're not actually thinking of doing it, are you?" Steve stared at me in disbelief.

"I don't know, Steve." I took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall. "Honestly, I feel like I don't know anything anymore."

"You can't do it, Darry. It'll kill him."

"What if _not_ doing it kills him, Steve?"

"You don't know that. Yeah, he _might_ try it again if you take him home, but sending him off to some Godforsaken mental hospital is a surefire way to send him off the deep end. Being a prisoner is what caused this whole mess in the first place. Locking him away ain't gonna help."

I stayed silent. I knew he was right; sending Soda away would devastate him. But I also knew it would keep him safe. He'd have to get better eventually, and even if he never forgave me, at least he'd be alive.

"Darry?" Steve's voice broke me out of my thoughts. He was staring at me, waiting for me to say something, to make a decision. I considered telling him about the gun, see if he still thought Soda was better off at home, but thought better of it. I wasn't sure Steve would keep quiet about it and the last thing I wanted was for Ponyboy to find out. I was hoping he might forgive Soda, or at least start talking to him once he'd had a chance to cool off, but if he knew that Sodapop had tried to shoot himself first, he'd never get over it.

"You really think he should come home?"

Steve nodded. "I do. I know it's riskier, but I think it's better for him. We'll watch him. Between all of us, he won't have the chance to be alone."

"We can't watch him all the time," I sighed.

"Don't be so sure about that. Give me your work schedule. Pony's too. Me and Two-Bit'll figure out a system." Steve's face was deadly serious. I shouldn't have expected anything less; I knew how much he  
cared about Soda.

"Alright. But don't count on Ponyboy."

Steve's face darkened. "He still being an ungrateful little-"

"Steve," I growled, and he stopped short. I couldn't deal with any more crap.

"Sorry," he muttered.

I sighed. "It's fine. Do you have paper? I'll write down my hours for the next couple weeks."

"There's paper inside," Steve said, standing up. I followed suit. Inside I quickly scribbled down my hours for him.

"You think this'll work?"

"It's our best shot. Between three of us we should be able to stay with him most of the time. I'll talk to Evie, let her know I'll be spending some nights on your couch."

I shook my head. "Steve, you don't need to do that."

"It's fine," he said, shooting me a glare. "Evie won't mind. She wants Soda to get better, too. Besides, it ain't like I'm out with another girl or something."

I ran a hand through my hair and gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Steve. Soda's lucky to have you, you know that?"

He didn't say anything, just nodded and stared at the schedule I'd given him. He'd never been good at taking compliments. "I'll come by tomorrow morning to let you know what we figured out."

I nodded and turned to go. At the door, I glanced back. Steve was hunched over the counter, his head in his hands, looking as defeated as I felt.

X X X

I stared at the doorway, my gaze focused on the small strip of light coming from the hallway. I'd been staring at it for hours, ever since the nurse had turned the light in my room off for the night. I was  
exhausted, but every time I closed my eyes I was terrified I'd open them to find the charred remains of the dead kid staring back at me.

I couldn't help thinking he was right. I'd tried to give Vo what he wanted, but it hadn't been enough. I should've tried harder. I should've fought harder against the guards, done anything I could've to help him. He was right; I deserved everything that happened.

I bit my lip, trying to stop the tears from coming. After Darry had left I'd cried until I was too exhausted to keep going. My throat was raw, but I couldn't stop the sob that ripped through me anyway. Everything the corpse had said the night before ran through my mind, repeating over again and blurring together. Feeling isolated and exposed, I tried to curl myself into a tighter ball and kept my gaze  
fixed on the light.

"Darry's gonna be here soon," I whispered to myself. "He's gonna take me home and then Pony'll be there and the dark won't matter."

I knew Pony wasn't speaking to me, but at least he would be there at night. If he was asleep beside me, I could pretend that everything was okay.

"Sodapop?"

I jumped, half sitting up, startled by the unexpected voice. Rose was standing in the doorway, her hand hovering over the light switch.

"Rose? Is it morning?" I asked, hoping the shift change meant the night was over.

"Yeah, it's morning." Now that she knew I was awake, she flicked the light on and stepped into the room. "How'd you sleep?"

I sat up fully and shrugged, avoiding the question. I hadn't slept a wink, and I probably looked like it, but I didn't want to explain why.

"Well, maybe you'll sleep better in your own bed tonight." Rose smiled and I nodded.

"Yeah, I'm sure I will."

"Are you hungry? There's some breakfast in the cafeteria."

I wasn't hungry, but I followed her out of the room anyway. I didn't want to be alone, and if I didn't accept the offer for breakfast I knew she'd have to leave and go look after other patients.

She led me to the small room that served as the cafeteria and gestured to the nurse who was on duty there. Once I had cereal and toast on the table in front of me, Rose spoke up. "I'll come back to check on you later, okay, Sodapop?"

"When?" I asked. I cringed a little at my own question, feeling like a whiney kid.

"As soon as I've made my rounds."

Without any real choice, I nodded. I thought if I threw a fit she might stay, but I didn't want to stoop to that. Instead I picked at the food in front of me, trying to concentrate on finishing it.

Not wanting to talk to any of the other patients, I headed back to my room when I'd finished breakfast. I tried to read _Gone with the Wind_ again, but I wasn't able to make it past the first chapter. When Rose  
came into my room, I happily gave up the attempt.

"Feeling any better?" she asked.

"I guess." With the night behind me and the overhead light on, I was feeling a little more hopeful. I wouldn't have to spend another night alone in here, and that at least was something good.

"I'm glad to hear that," Rose said, smiling and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Don't you have patients to deal with?" I asked, surprised that she seemed to be staying.

She shook her head. "Everyone is taken care of and Betty is keeping watch in case anyone needs something. I've got some time."

I smiled, grateful for the company. Rose started talking, telling me stories from when she was younger. I wasn't sure I believed all of them, but they were entertaining and I hung on every word. She stayed until she was called away by another nurse. I watched her leave, hoping she wouldn't be gone too long.

While I waited, I flipped through the book again, skimming through the pages in an effort to find some part of it that was more interesting than the beginning. The sound of a familiar voice in the hallway made me stop short.

"Hello, Dr. Wilson." Darry sounded tired and I winced, knowing it was my fault.

"Hello, Darrel. Have you made a decision?"

Decision? Dr. Wilson hadn't said anything to me about any decision. As quietly as I could, I climbed off the bed and crept to the door.

"I have," Darry said, and I froze, not knowing what they were talking about but knowing it must've been about me. "I'm taking Soda home."

My breath caught in my throat. Why was Darry telling Dr. Wilson he was taking me home? He already knew that. Darry had promised me yesterday that it would be my last night here. Why was it even a question?

"Are you sure, Darrel? I know Sodapop wants to go home, but his safety is more important than what he wants. He would be better off in one of the facilities I showed you yesterday."

I backed away from the door, not wanting to hear any more. Was Darry thinking of sending me away? He couldn't do that. He wasn't my legal guardian anymore; they had to have my permission if they wanted me to stay in a hospital. Didn't they?

I glanced around the room, my chest tightening as I noticed again how small it was. What if the place they wanted to send me to was worse? What if the nurses wouldn't let me keep the door open at night, or what if they kept me locked in one of those tiny padded cells?

My heart started pounding as the possibilities ran through my mind. I wouldn't go, they couldn't make me. I took in a deep breath, determined to tell Darry off, but my lungs wouldn't work. All I got in was a tiny gulp of air. Some distant part of my brain realized I was having another panic attack but even knowing that, I couldn't calm down. If they kept me locked up, I knew I'd have more of these, and I didn't want to. The walls seemed to close in as I sank to the ground, trying to suck in whatever air I could get.

"Soda? Soda!"

Darry's blurry face came into my line of vision. I reached out blindly, trying to find his hand, and let myself collapse as soon as I found it. My heart hammered in my ears, drowning out every other sound. I could feel Darry rubbing my back, trying to calm me down, but all I could think of was the air I couldn't get in and how they wanted to lock me up and throw away the key.

I don't know how long I was lying on the floor cradled in Darry's arms before I started to feel like I could breathe without suffocating. The pounding in my ears slowly started to die down and I could hear Darry  
talking softly to me.

"It's gonna be okay, Soda. I'm here, you're safe. Nothing's going to happen to you."

I shook my head. "I heard you talking to Dr. Wilson."

There was a pause, then, "You heard that?"

I nodded and slowly pushed myself up, still feeling shaky. "I don't want to go to another hospital, Darry. I want to go home."

"I told you, Soda. You _are_ going home. It's just another couple of hours."

"But Dr. Wilson-"

"Don't worry about it, Soda," Darry soothed, giving my hand a squeeze. "I'm taking you home tonight."

"What about what Dr. Wilson said?" I asked, biting my lip.

"He's worried that you're going to hurt yourself again. That's why he recommended some other hospitals to me."

"I won't. I promise I won't do anything."

Darry was silent and I suddenly felt sick as I realized he didn't believe me.

"I won't," I repeated quietly, my gaze fixed on the floor.

There was a sigh as I felt Darry brush my hair out of my eyes. "Did you get any sleep last night, little buddy?"

I shook my head. There was no point in lying. I knew I looked exhausted.

"Why don't you have a nap? When you wake up it'll probably be time to go."

I nodded, but didn't move to get up. The attack had passed, but I was still worried. "You promise we're going home?" I forced myself to look into Darry's eyes.

"I promise, Soda," he said, meeting my gaze. "I'm not leaving you here, and I'm not sending you anywhere. Now get some rest."

I nodded and took Darry's offered hand, letting him lead me to the bed.

"Will you stay?" I didn't want to be there by myself.

"I'll stay," Darry agreed, sitting down beside the bed. I wrapped my hand tighter around his before closing my eyes.

X X X

"Soda? You ready?"

I shook myself out of my daze to find Darry watching me from the doorway. He'd woken me up a few minutes before, telling me it was time to go home. In the few minutes it took him to go sign my release papers, I'd gone from ecstatic to terrified. I couldn't wait to get out of the hospital, but I'd been so focused on getting out that I hadn't thought about what would happen once I did.

"Soda?"

I nodded and tried to look more excited than I felt. Darry grabbed my bag, which he'd packed while I'd been asleep, and squeezed my shoulder.

"C'mon, let's go." Darry headed for the door and I followed slowly after him. Rose was waiting in the hallway for me.

"You take care of yourself, you hear?" she said. There was a trace of sadness in her voice and I couldn't help but wonder why she cared so much. She barely knew me. Whatever the reason was, though, I was grateful she'd been there.

"Thanks for everything, Rose." I tried to smile at her, but couldn't quite manage it. Not knowing what else to say, I followed Darry.

"You want to get something to eat?" Darry asked once we were in the truck.

"I'm not hungry." All I could think of was what was waiting for me and I had the bad feeling that anything I ate wouldn't stay down for long. Darry didn't push the subject. When we got home, I didn't make a move to get out of the truck.

"You've gotta go in sometime, Soda."

I knew Darry was right, but it didn't make it any easier. "Is he home?"

"He's supposed to be. It's a school night and it's after eight."

I nodded. I almost hoped Darry was wrong, but I was guessing from the light coming from inside our house that he probably wasn't. Taking a deep breath, I got out of the truck and started up the driveway. My hand was shaking as I opened the front door and stepped inside. I could feel Darry standing behind me and I felt a bit better knowing that at least he was trying to make things okay.

The living room was empty. I swallowed hard, summoning the courage to move forward. When I reached the kitchen, I saw Pony sitting at the table, homework spread out in front of him. "Hi, Pone," I spoke up quietly.

He looked up, met my eyes for a split second, and immediately turned back to his homework.

"Ponyboy…" The warning was clear in Darry's voice, but Pony ignored it.

"I already ate, Darry," he said, not bothering to look up. "I didn't make anything for you. I wasn't sure what time you'd be home."

"Ponyboy—" Darry started again, but I cut him off.

"It's fine, Dare," I whispered, turning away from the kitchen and heading to my room. I quickly closed the door behind me and brushed away the tears that had started to fall. I could hear muffled voices from down the hall and I tried not to think about what they were saying. I sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking about crawling under the covers and trying to block them out. I almost did until I noticed the pillow missing from the other side of the bed.

I frowned, trying to figure out what had happened to it, and felt myself pale as the pieces came together. I looked around the room, taking it all in. The desk that was usually scattered with papers and books was completely cleared off. The closet was emptier than normal and the gym bag that normally sat at the end of the bed was gone.

With shaking legs, I opened the door and crept back to the kitchen. The argument was getting louder and I winced as I heard Darry's voice climb to a roar. "What you want doesn't matter, Ponyboy! He's your brother and you _will_ talk to him!"

"We've gone over this already, Darry!" Pony screamed back. "_I don't care!_"

I'd reached the doorway and the movement caught Pony's attention. He froze and Darry muttered a curse as he turned around and saw me.

"You moved your stuff," I said, my eyes locked on Pony's. I almost choked on the words. Pony didn't say anything. He shot Darry one last glare, then shoved past me. A door slammed at the end of the hallway, reverberating through the house. Darry started forward, but I backed away towards my room. When the door was safely closed behind me, I sank to the floor and buried my head in my knees.

Coming home wasn't anything like I'd expected.

It was a thousand times worse.


	34. Chapter 34

Wow…five days an already an update? I don't think that's happened since I started posting this story. I don't know if I can keep this pace up, but I'll certainly try to come close.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I always love hearing what you think. :) And a special thanks to Independence Undervalued for the advice and for the inadvertent idea. I know you were wondering what it is…it's the very final part of the chapter. You'll know it when you read it. ;)

X X X

We are all prisoners,  
Things couldn't get much worse  
I've had it up to here,  
You know your end is near

~~Breaking Benjamin—Had Enough

X X X

"You're sure he's in there, right?" I could hear the doubt in my voice as I started to wonder if I'd made a mistake. Maybe I should've told Darry to send Soda to that other hospital.

Darry sighed and knocked on Sodapop's door again. "He has to be in there. I stayed awake all night to make sure he didn't come out here and do anything stupid."

"What if he did something in there?" I asked, nervously shifting.

"I don't think so," Darry answered, shaking his head. "I went through his room with a fine toothed comb. I don't think there's anything left he can hurt himself with." He knocked on the door again and, despite everything he'd just said, I could see the worry in his eyes when he didn't get an answer.

"You gonna go in?"

Darry glanced at me and I knew he'd already made that decision before I'd asked. He quietly opened the door and slipped inside. When he didn't come out right away, I figured everything was okay, or at least as okay as it could be.

I headed back to the kitchen and helped myself to a glass of orange juice. Darry was supposed to be at work soon and Two-Bit had been at Buck's till nearly four in the morning, so it was my turn to watch Soda. As I waited at the kitchen table, I caught myself biting at my fingernails, a habit I thought I'd broken years ago. It wasn't the first time it had happened in the past few days; most of my nails had been gnawed down to the quick.

Down the hall a door clicked shut and I looked up to find Darry coming into the kitchen. "Soda'll be here in a few minutes," he said, joining me at the table. He looked as pale as death and I wondered if he'd slept at all since Soda had gone into the hospital.

"How'd last night go?" I didn't mention Ponyboy, but I was sure Darry knew what I was getting at.

Darry checked the hallway behind him to make sure it was empty before turning back to me. "About as good as you'd expect. Pony's not talking to him and Soda will barely say anything at all." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I remember when it was next to impossible to make Soda shut up. Now it's like pulling teeth to get more than a few sentences out of him."

"You know that Two-Bit wanted to break into the hospital and find Soda's records? I think he'd do it, too, if he knew where to look." It was a good idea, in theory, but I didn't think even Two-Bit had much chance of pulling it off.

"Glory, that boy is insane," Darry muttered.

"You're preaching to the choir, man," I smirked.

Movement behind Darry caught my eye and I stiffened as Soda came into the kitchen. "Hi, Steve," he whispered. His arms were crossed and he was staring at me, a pleading look in his eyes. He looked worse than Darry, thin and pale, eyes hollow and marred by dark circles.

"Hi, Soda." I pulled out the chair beside me. Soda gave me a small, grateful smile as he sat down.

"I've gotta get going," Darry announced, standing up. "You mind helping Soda clean this place up a bit, Steve?"

"Sure, no problem, Darry." We'd both agreed it would be a good idea if I had an excuse for hanging around Soda all day. He'd catch on to what we were doing sooner or later, but the longer we could cover it up, the better.

"And eat something," he added, glaring pointedly at Soda. Soda continued staring at the table, ignoring the comment. I gave Darry a slight nod as I stood up and starting sifting through the fridge.

"Pancakes sound okay?" I asked after Darry had left. Soda shrugged, so I started pulling out the ingredients. While the batter cooked, I chopped up a couple of apples and added them to the mix.

"Since when can you cook?" Soda finally asked after watching me for a while.

"Since forever. I just don't bother very often." It was true. After my mom had left, any home cooked meals in our house had stopped. It hadn't taken long for me to get sick of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and start digging through her recipe books. I ate at the Curtis' more often than Soda ate at my house, though, and I didn't generally volunteer to cook if I didn't have to.

"I bet Evie loves it."

"Well, she sure doesn't hate it," I said, laughing. Soda chuckled lightly and I felt some of the tension leave the room.

"When do I go back to work?" Soda asked as I divided the pancakes between two plates. I grabbed the syrup out of the fridge and settled in at the table before answering him.

"Wednesday." Hopefully Darry wouldn't kill me for that. He hadn't said no to the date when I'd mentioned it.

Soda started picking at the pancakes and I frowned at his apparent lack of appetite. "Why not tomorrow?"

I glared at him. "Cause you need a couple of days to recover, Soda."

"I'm fine, Steve," he sighed, staring at his plate. "I know everyone's worried, but they don't need to be."

"You're damn right we're worried," I snapped. Soda's head shot up, eyes wide. He looked scared and I realized he was afraid I was going to start acting like Ponyboy. I took a deep breath, making sure I was calm before continuing. "Soda, you can't make this go away. We're gonna be worried, and you're gonna have to deal with it."

"I know," he mumbled, eyes downcast again.

"Besides," I added, hoping to lighten the mood, "you're not on the schedule for tomorrow, anyway. So unless you want to work for free, you ain't got much choice but to wait till Wednesday." Soda looked doubtful, so I pointed to the fridge. "The schedule's right there. See for yourself."

He studied it for a minute before turning back, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face. "Sorry. I should've believed you."

"It's okay," I said, shrugging. "It's good to know some things haven't changed, anyway. The day you remember your schedule off by heart is the day hell freezes over."

Soda glared at me and flicked a stray pancake crumb towards me. I laughed and blocked it, shaking my head. It wasn't much, but it was something.

X X X

"Sodapop, where do you guys keep the vacuum?" Steve called from down the hall.

I stopped washing the dishes for a second, taken aback by the question. "Why?" I yelled back.

"So I can practice my dancing skills," Steve said, scowling as he came back into the kitchen. "So I can vacuum. Why do ya think?"

I rolled my eyes at his comment. "I know Darry asked you to help clean, but you don't have to, Steve."

He picked up a dish towel and started drying off the plates I'd already washed. "I know, but I don't mind helping."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Steve, the fact that you don't even know where we keep the vacuum shows how much time you've spent cleaning here."

"C'mon, Soda. I don't got nowhere else to be. Why not take the help while you can?"

"Fine, if you really want to waste your day," I sighed, giving in.

"So, where's the vacuum?"

"In the basement, to the right of the stairs."

I frowned as I watched Steve head to the basement. For all the time he'd spent at our house over the years, I could count on one hand the number of times he'd helped clean anything more than dishes. I tried to chalk it up to him wanting to keep me company, but as the day wore on I started to doubt that theory. It wasn't until later that night that I really got suspicious, though. Steve left when Darry came home from work, but he showed up again at nine.

"What're you doing back?" I asked, looking up from the T.V.

"Evie's mom is sick and her dad is working, so she's staying there tonight." Steve answered, plopping down on the couch.

"Is her mom okay?" Darry asked.

"Yeah, I guess it's just the flu, But Evie feels bad leaving her alone. So, I figured I'd just crash here tonight."

Darry yawned and stood up. "Make yourself at home. I'm heading to bed. You should go soon, too, Soda."

"Sure, Dare," I agreed. It was way too early to think of going to bed, but I was so thankful for everything Darry had done that I didn't want to argue with him. At least he was talking to me. Pony had come home at eight and gone right to his room. I'd stopped Darry from going after him; I didn't want another argument, and no amount of trust in my brothers made me believe they'd keep their voices down.

When Darry had gone, I glanced sideways at Steve, who's gaze was fixed on the television. "I thought Evie didn't get along with her mom."

"She didn't used to," Steve said, shrugging. "Things got better once she moved out and they each had some space."

I remembered him mentioning that once before. I still wasn't sure I believed his story, but I didn't want to start a fight by questioning it more. I just hoped Darry hadn't put him up to this. If Steve wanted to stay over to make himself feel better, I could live with that, but I didn't need a watchdog.

"You really should get some sleep. You look like shit."

I looked over to find Steve studying me and I bit back a sarcastic comment. I had enough people mad at me. "I'm not tired," I said, hoping he'd drop the subject for now.

"Soda, I doubt you've slept more than a few hours in the past week." Steve glared at me and I realized he wasn't going to back down.

"Fine," I grumbled, standing up. "If it'll make everyone happy."

I stormed down the hall and slammed the door behind me, instantly regretting it as I realized Darry was probably already asleep. I looked around the room, taking in the changes again. It hadn't taken me long to realize that on top of Pony's things being gone, anything breakable was missing, too. Darry had taken out anything even close to dangerous. I tried to ignore the anger, telling myself that he had every reason not to trust me. I'd meant it when I'd told him I wouldn't try anything again, but I couldn't ignore the small voice in the back of my head that kept reminding me I hadn't planned to do anything in the first place. If I wasn't even sure I trusted myself, how could I expect anyone else to trust me?

X X X

"I thought I'd find you here."

I looked up to see Two-Bit standing on the other side of the table I was camped out at. I groaned. I really didn't want to deal with anyone.

"Ya know, if you don't want to be found, you should consider becoming less predictable."

"And where am I supposed to study?"

"Well, there's always the grocery store," he drawled, sitting down and propping his feet up on the chair next to him. "Or the movie theatre. Oh, or the bus. I hear the constant motion is a good way to stay awake."

"Look, I'm busy here, Two-Bit," I groused. "Did you have something that's actually useful to say?"

"Oh yeah, you're real busy," he said, raising an eyebrow. "So busy that you've spent ten minutes reading the same page."

I glared at him, not able to argue back. "How long've you been watching me?"

"Long enough."

"What do you want?" I asked with a sigh. I knew from experience it was impossible to make Two-Bit go away if he didn't want to.

"Darry asked me to pick you up."

I glanced at my watch. "It's only six thirty. I've got another hour and a half till I'm supposed to be home."

Two-Bit shrugged. "I've got my orders."

"I'm sixteen. I can make it home by myself."

Two-Bit's expression turned serious as he leaned forward. "You've gotta go home sometime tonight, Pony. Darry has to work and he asked me to pick you up. Don't make things harder for him by fighting it."

I stiffened as I realized Two-Bit was through joking. He wouldn't leave unless I left with him, and if he stayed he'd make enough of a ruckus to get us both kicked out. "Fine," I snapped and started to gather up my books.

"Good," he said, his smile returning.

"Darry needs to start realizing I'm not a kid anymore," I grumbled as we walked to Two-Bit's car. "The bus stop is right here. Soda used to be out by himself at my age."

"Darry's just used to having to worry about you more than Soda."

"Look how that worked out for him," I muttered. Two-Bit missed my last comment as he climbed into the driver's seat. I followed suit and kept my mouth shut as he drove. I didn't feel like getting yelled at; Darry had been doing enough of that lately without anyone else chiming in. I was surprised he hadn't come after me when I'd got home the night before, but I sure wasn't disappointed. I didn't think I could stand his pestering much longer.

When we got to the house, Two-Bit made himself comfortable on the couch next to Steve and Soda, spreading his arms out behind him and putting his feet on the coffee table. I shook my head, long ago used to him acting as if he lived here.

"Hi, Pony." It was impossible to miss the pleading in Soda's voice, and for a second I was tempted to answer him. I knew he regretted what he'd done. I knew he was sorry, but that didn't erase the image that wouldn't leave my mind of him lying in a pool of his own blood. It didn't make me feel any better and it sure as hell didn't change the fact that he'd done it in the first place.

"Kid, you deaf?" Steve glared at me from the couch.

"If I'm deaf, you're filthy rich," I shot back. I headed down the hall without waiting for a reply. I wasn't in my room for more than a few seconds before the front door slammed with enough force to shake the walls. I tried to ignore it, instead pulling out the homework I'd been working on when Two-Bit had interrupted me. My concentration was about as stellar as it was in the library; it took me a half hour of re-reading the same page before I realized I wasn't even on the right chapter. I groaned and slammed the book closed.

I tensed as a soft knock came at my door. "Pony?" Soda called. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry!" I called, hoping he would go away. I was starving, but I couldn't stand looking at Soda's puppy dog eyes begging me for forgiveness. He didn't deserve it, not after everything he'd put us through.

There was a short pause before the door creaked open. "Pony, you need to eat."

"I said I'm not hungry." I scowled and opened my history book back up. Soda wasn't going to give up this time, though.

"Pone, you can't ignore me forever," he said quietly, still standing in the doorway.

"Go away, Soda," I growled, quickly losing patience.

"C'mon, can't we talk?"

I glared at him and he shrank back a bit. "You wanna talk?" I snarled. "That's funny, cause you didn't want to talk when you were in the hospital after you came home. You didn't want to talk when you had nightmares or when I would ask you if you were okay when you'd spaced out. It's too late, Soda. Now, if you don't mind, I've got homework to do."

I turned back to my books, but I could still feel Soda watching me from the doorway. "Please, Pony," he begged. "I'm really sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but can you at least try to let things be okay again?"

"Okay?" I cried. "Things haven't been "okay" in a long time, Soda! And you know who's fault that is? Yours."

He winced and looked down at his feet. "Can't you just try, Pone?"

I couldn't keep listening to this. Soda had always been able to wear me down in the past, but I wouldn't let him do it this time. I went to the door, wanting to get away from the incessant begging, but Soda didn't budge. "Move, Soda," I said, refusing to meet his eyes.

"No, Ponyboy. I'm not going anywhere. Not till you talk to me."

"Move, Soda," I repeated. My voice cracked, any control I had left quickly wavering. Soda stayed put, as stubborn in his attempt to apologize as he was in pushing us away.

"Pony—"

I snapped. Before I knew what I was doing, my fist had connected with Soda's jaw. He stumbled backwards into the wall, hand held to his face, and stared at me in disbelief. His eyes were wide, filled with almost childlike hurt. At that moment, I couldn't decide who I hated more: him or myself.

"Ponyboy?" Two-Bit had appeared at the end of the hall. Before he could say anything else, I ran.

X X X

Thoughts? I'll bet my bank account no one guesses what comes next.


	35. Chapter 35

Hi everyone. :) Thank you once again for your patience! Five more weeks till summer vacation and therefore only two jobs. :)

So, I probably shouldn't have written that last comment about not being able to guess what would happen next. Definitely no one guessed, but I think the comment probably gave the impression it was something crazy like Pony getting hit by a car or something. It was just something that, honestly, I didn't even see coming until it just sort of happened. It was actually really fun to write, so hopefully you like it.

And, while this chapter might have taken a lot longer than I wanted it to, it's also the longest chapter.

X X X

Your take the breath right out of me  
You left a hole where my heart should be  
You got to fight jus to make it through  
'Cause I will be the death of you

~~Breaking Benjamin—Breath

X X X

I stirred around my mashed potatoes idly, not wanting to start eating until Soda had come back, hopefully with Ponyboy in tow. But, the longer Soda was gone, the more I started to wonder if it had been a good idea to send him to get the kid for dinner. He hadn't said much when I'd suggested it, but the look of hopelessness on his face had spoken for him. I didn't know how much longer he could take Pony being so angry with him. I'd never been able to understand how they were so close; even before they'd lost their parents it always seemed like they were closer than anyone else in the family. With any luck, Soda taking so long right now was a good sign. Maybe they were making some sort of progress.

As if to prove me wrong, Pony's voice suddenly erupted down the hall. "Okay? Things haven't been "okay" in a long time, Soda! And you know who's fault that is? Yours."

I buried my head in my hands and sighed in defeat. That kid was stubborn as hell. No surprise, considering he had Sodapop and Darry as role models.

There was still the sound of muffled voices coming from Pony's room, but I couldn't make anything out. I doubted that I wanted to know what they were saying, anyway. It wasn't until I heard a loud thump that I got worried. Moving to the end of the hall, I found Soda leaning against the wall, cradling his jaw, Pony standing opposite him. Both were as still as statues.

"Ponyboy?" I questioned, praying to God that this wasn't what it looked like. Pony's head snapped towards me and he stared at me for a split second, panic written in every feature, before breaking into a run. He shoved past me and was out the front door before I could react.

Soda was still motionless, staring at the spot where Pony had stood a few seconds before. "Soda?" I called, quickly making my way over to him. His eyes slowly fixed on mine. "Soda, what happened?" I asked.

"He hit me," he mumbled, hand still on his jaw.

"Yeah, I figured that part out," I muttered, but he didn't seem to notice my sarcasm. "_Why_ did he hit you, Soda?"

"He hit me," he repeated. "He actually hit me."

I sighed, realizing he wasn't capable of giving me any answers yet. "C'mon, Sodapop." I put a hand on his shoulder and started guiding him towards the living room. When I'd gotten him to sit on the couch, I went to the freezer to grab an ice pack. A dark purple bruise was already forming on his jaw, but I was hoping to at least minimize the damage. Soda hadn't moved an inch when I went back to the living room and I wondered if he even realized he wasn't in the hallway anymore.

"Here, take this." I gently pushed the ice pack into Soda's hand. He jumped and turned to me in surprise. "It's okay, it's just me," I said. He relaxed and pressed the ice to his jaw.

"Thanks," he whispered. His eyes seemed to refocus as the cold penetrated his skin.

"Soda?" I waited until he was looking at me before asking my question again. "What happened?"

He looked back down. "He wanted me to go away. I should've listened to him. I should've left him alone."

"No, Soda. Pony doesn't know what he wants right now. He's confused."

"Cut the crap, Two-Bit," he snapped, glaring at me. "Ponyboy knows exactly what he wants, and he's right."

"You can't believe that, Soda," I argued, frowning. "He's just angry right now and he doesn't know what to do. He'll come around."

He sighed and closed his eyes, not bothering to protest anymore. Steve had been wanting to get his hands on Pony for days and seeing Soda like this, I was starting to think I just might let him. Pony had to realize what this was doing to his brother. The rest of us were making an effort to get past our anger. Why couldn't he?

After a while, Soda took the ice pack off his jaw and threw it onto the coffee table. Sneaking a look, I saw it'd helped, but Pony's punch had been hard enough to leave behind a pretty nasty bruise anyway.

"You know, there's still dinner," I suggested.

"I'm really not hungry."

"Too bad," I declared. "I worked hard on that dinner and you're gonna eat it."

Actually, I hadn't done anything more than wash the vegetables, but I was hoping to get some sort of reaction out of Soda. Instead, all I got was a reluctant, "Fine," as he trudged to the kitchen. I groaned as I followed him in. This was gonna be a long night.

X X X

The wind whipped against my face as I ran blindly through the streets. I didn't know where I was going and I didn't care; I just couldn't stay at home. I couldn't think about the fact that I had just done exactly what I had once hated Darry for. I couldn't look at the hurt expression on Soda's face and know that it was my fault.

I tried to tell myself that I wasn't completely to blame. Soda was the one who'd screwed up in the first place. I didn't care how sorry he was. It didn't make what he'd done okay. Darry kept wanting me to give him a second chance, but I didn't understand how I was supposed to do that. The only reason Soda was even around for second chances was by pure luck. If we hadn't found him in time, nothing would even matter anymore.

None of these thoughts made me feel any less guilty, though. I kept running, using my years of track practice to put as much distance between myself and my house as possible. When I ran out of breath, I slowed to a walk. I still didn't pay attention to where I was going. I just kept walking—anything to avoid having to think. It wasn't until I slammed into something solid that I finally looked up.

"Watch where you're going, grease!"

I stiffened at the name. I wasn't in the mood to deal with some stuck up snob who thought he owned everything in sight.

"Last time I checked, Socs had eyes. Didn't you see me coming? Or were you too stupid to move out of the way?" I whirled around to face the asshole and froze when I saw who it was.

"Why should I move out of the way?" David sneered. "The sidewalk's as much mine as it is yours. Maybe you should show some respect."

I snorted. "Respect? I'll respect you when you grow a backbone and fight me instead of attacking my brother." I still hadn't forgotten David's comment at the diner and no matter how pissed off I was at Sodapop, I didn't want this good for nothing Soc going after him.

"What, you afraid he can't handle it? I know you wouldn't be the only one who thinks so."

I knew he was just baiting me, but I couldn't help it. If he wanted a fight, I was more than ready to give him one. There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as he saw my reaction. I pulled my fist back, ready to give him everything he was asking for, but stopped short as I got a good look at him.

"Have you been crying?" I asked, too shocked at what I was seeing to follow through with the punch. Tear tracks covered his face and I noticed for the first time how red his eyes were.

"Why would you care?" he asked, roughly wiping at his eyes.

I dropped my arm back to my side and shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" he echoed. "I thought you were smarter than that."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? Than why'd you kick me out of your group?"

He paused for a second, apparently caught off guard, then shook his head and started walking again. I could've turned around and forgotten about the whole encounter, but the way David was acting bugged me. It wasn't like him to just walk away.

Curiosity got the better of me and I followed him. When I'd caught up, he glared at me. "What're you doing?"

"You never answered my question," I pointed out, shrugging. "Why were you crying?"

He turned the corner silently and I wondered if he would answer me or if I was just wasting my time. After a few minutes, he finally spoke up. "I was visiting my brothers."

I frowned. "But, I thought your brothers were…" I trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. He stopped and nodded in the direction we'd come. I followed his gaze and realized I'd run into him outside of the cemetery. "Oh." It was all I could think to say; I felt stupid for not noticing earlier where we were.

David walked on in silence and I found myself following him. This was the guy who'd done whatever he could to make my life miserable, but somehow I couldn't make myself turn around and walk to the other direction. He didn't comment on my presence, so I took it as an invitation, or at least a grudging acceptance.

I lost track of time, but eventually he stopped. I looked up to find he'd brought us to a bar. It wasn't one I recognized. We were close to the edge of town, nowhere near either greaser or Soc territory. The building was old and run down; if it wasn't for the handful of cars in the parking lot, I would've wondered if it was even open. "You coming?" David asked, and I realized he was already at the door.

I thought about walking away; the whole situation was just plain weird. But, I didn't want to go home yet and I didn't feel much like wandering the streets aimlessly, so I nodded and followed him in. The bar was dark and smoky, making it difficult to see much, but I could see a few guys scattered around the room, some lounging at tables, a few playing pool or darts. David was already at the bar.

"I'll have the usual, Mitch," he said to the bartender, then gestured to me. "Him, too."

I gulped. I wasn't much of a drinker. Darry would kill me if I ever came home drunk and I doubted Soda would be too thrilled about it, either. On the other hand, I wasn't in the mood to care what either one of them thought. And hell, if David was gonna buy me a drink, who was I to argue?

"Thanks," I said to Mitch as he placed my drink on the counter. The glass was full of a dark liquid. I was surprised, having pegged David as a beer drinker rather shots, but shrugged and picked it up anyway. Now was as good a time as any to try hard liquor.

I made my way to one of the pool tables where David was racking together the balls. "I'm breaking," he stated as I joined him. I didn't argue. He slammed his cue into the white ball, sending it flying into the others and scattering them across the table. When they'd settled, he turned to me. "Solids."

I nodded and watched him sink another three balls before finally missing and turning the play over to me. Soda had taught me the game the previous spring and I easily matched David's moves. As we played, a waitress brought another drink to replace David's empty glass. I hadn't touched mine yet, deciding to wait until I'd won the game.

"Not bad," David said as I sunk the final ball. He took his drink and headed to a booth in the corner.

"My brother taught me," I explained, joining him. I finally took a cautious sip of my drink, not even sure what was in it. I'd always had the impression that alcohol burned when it hit your throat, but this stuff didn't seem harsh at all. I tried it again, taking a real drink instead of just a sip, and frowned at it, puzzled. "What is this stuff?"

I looked up to find David smirking at me. "It's Pepsi, genius. What'd you expect?"

"Pepsi?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Yeah, Pepsi. You figured whisky or something, didn't you?"

I nodded, taking another drink and realizing he was right. It was just plain old soda. "So, you come to a bar in the middle of nowhere where the bartender obviously knows you and you don't order alcohol?" I studied him, even more confused than I was before.

"I don't drink," he said. "Never have, never will."

"Never? I thought that's what Socs did," I spat, remembering the smell of alcohol on the Socs' breath the night Bob had died.

David glared at me and I realized he'd been serious. "Not all of us."

I was silent for a minute and David relaxed some, leaning back in the booth and looking around. "Why not?" I finally asked.

"Cause of my brothers."

"They didn't drink, either?" I guessed.

He shook his head. "No. Joe, my oldest brother, tried it a few times, but he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it." I frowned, not sure what David was talking about until he elaborated. "Both my parents are alcoholics. It's not what you're thinking," he added, noticing how I'd tensed up. For me, alcoholic parents automatically brought Johnny's parents to mind. "They're not abusive or anything. They're more…neglectful. They never paid much attention to us unless we did something wrong. There was always something more important, another party or dinner to go to. My mother constantly had friends over, and all they ever did was sit around and drink and gossip."

I could see why he didn't have any interest in alcohol. Aside from the violence, his parents didn't seem so different from Johnny's after all, and he'd always swore he'd never touch a drop. "So why do you come to a bar if you're not planning on drinking?"

David nodded towards the bar. "Mitch was good friends with Joe when they were in high school. I never drank, but when Joe and Will died, I tried a few other things. It wasn't long before Mitch caught me in an ally trying to buy heroin. He dragged me back here and locked me up till I was clean. Lectured me till he was blue in the face. Now, any time I want to go back to that ally, I come here, instead."

I sat back, trying to digest everything David had just told me. His story barely sounded any different from something I'd hear in my neighborhood. I still couldn't figure him out, though. "Why'd you tell me all this? I thought you hated me."

He sighed and shook his glass, swirling around the ice cubes in the bottom. "I did, till last week."

"Last week?" I asked, frowning. I hadn't seen him outside of history class since that day at the diner.

He was silent for a minute; he seemed to be trying to decide if he should explain how I'd magically earned his forgiveness or let it drop. "Last Thursday I was out with some friends. My buddy Karl pissed off some guy and got into a fight. The guy broke Karl's nose. Since I was the only sober one, I had the pleasure of dragging him to the E.R."

Normally I would've rolled my eyes at hearing about a Soc antagonizing someone, but I was too stunned. I knew what was coming next; it was too big of a coincidence to be anything else.

"While I was waiting for the doctor to finish with him, I saw you and your brothers come in," he continued. "You were covered in blood. You're the one who found him, aren't you?"

I nodded and gulped down the rest of my drink, wishing I had been right and it was more than just Pepsi. "We came home just in time," I said, confirming what he'd already figured out.

"Till I saw that, I thought you were the luckiest son of a bitch in the world."

I glared at him and started to argue, wanting to ask how someone who lost their parents and two good friends could possibly be considered lucky, but he kept going before I had a chance.

"I felt bad for you when your brother was drafted. I knew what it felt like to have someone so close to me over there. It was only a couple weeks after your brother left that Will was killed, and Joe a month later. I felt bad for you, knowing your turn to get the letter would come soon enough. But then I found out your brother had come home, and I couldn't stand to even look at you anymore. It didn't seem fair that I'd lost both my brothers and you hadn't even lost one."

My blood boiled and I gripped the side of the table as the urge to punch him returned. "Are you saying you _wanted_ Sodapop to die?"

He met my eyes and nodded. "Yeah, sometimes I did."

My eyes narrowed to slits and I started to get up so I could pull him outside. I knew Mitch would probably stop me, but that didn't mean I couldn't try.

"Let me finish, Ponyboy," David said, putting his hands up in surrender.

Something in his eyes caught my attention and I sat back down in a huff. "You'd better have a damn good follow-up, David," I growled.

"I know my parents are alive," he started, "but they may as well not be. My brothers raised me. They taught me everything—how to ride a bike, how to throw a ball, how to fight."

I glared at him. "Unless you wanna test those fighting skills, you'd better make a point real fast."

He sighed and nodded. "When they died, I lost the only real family I have. I was jealous of you and part of me wanted fate to even the score a little. But when I saw Sodapop come into the hospital last week, I realized that you did lose your brother over there. He was alive, but he obviously wasn't okay. And when I saw the look on your face when you followed him in, I regretted ever wishing he'd died."

I realized then what I'd seen in his eyes—what had made me sit back down instead of punching his lights out. Remorse. He really did feel awful about wanting Soda dead. "So is that why you brought me here? To apologize?"

David shrugged. "I guess so. Honestly, if I hadn't run into you tonight, I doubt I'd have ever said anything. What happened tonight, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were wandering around by yourself, not paying any attention to where you were going, and you were nowhere near your neighborhood."

"How do you know I don't just like to walk?" I asked defensively.

"C'mon. Even you're not stupid enough to walk around by yourself at night just for the fun of it."

"You were," I pointed out.

He smirked and shook his head. "Fair point. But, I don't believe you, so you still haven't answered my question."

I glared at him. "Why should I?"

"I answered yours."

I sighed, knowing he was right; he'd told me a lot more than I'd asked for. I stared at my glass, wishing I'd never asked David anything and didn't have to tell him this. "I punched Soda."

I chanced a glance upwards and found David watching me. "Took you long enough," he said, not even a hint of surprise in his voice.

"What?" I asked, gaping at him.

"I said, it took you long enough," he repeated. "If it had been me and one of my brothers, I think I would've punched him the second he was home from the hospital."

I stared at him, not sure I was hearing him right. "I thought you loved your brothers."

"That's the point," he said, rolling his eyes. "Think about it. Why'd you punch him?"

That wasn't hard to figure out. "Cause I'm mad at him. What he did wasn't fair."

"Exactly. If you didn't love your brother, you wouldn't care that he'd tried to kill himself."

"But that doesn't help," I protested, sighing. "I still hurt him. And I still hate him," I added quietly.

David cocked his head to the side. "Do you really hate him? Or are you just pissed beyond belief?"

I thought about it, trying to figure out the answer. I'd spent so much of the last few days fuming, I hadn't stopped to actually sort anything out. "Honestly?" I asked, and he nodded. "I don't think it's either one, at least not mostly. I think more than anything else, I'm scared."

"That he'll try it again?"

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding. "If he kills himself, it's the same result as if he'd died in Vietnam, but at least if it had happened over there I'd be able to forgive him."

"I know what you mean," David said, nodding sympathetically.

"How?" I asked. "Your brothers didn't kill themselves."

"Not directly, no. But they enlisted. They went over there by choice, so they may as well have."

He was right. His brothers both could've been in college, away from home, maybe even on the other side of the country, but alive and safe. There wasn't any reason for them to be over there, and from the bitterness in David's voice, I realized he really did understand exactly how I felt.

"So, now what?" he asked, studying me.

"What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do now? I can't change anything, but your brother is still here."

I leaned forward on the table and sighed. "I don't know. I can't just go home and pretend everything's okay, cause it's not."

"No," he agreed. "But you can go home. At least it's a start."

"Then what?"

He shrugged. "If I knew that, I wouldn't need to come here." He was silent for a minute before standing up. "C'mon, you should get going."

With a sigh, I followed him outside. Somehow, I actually felt better after talking to David, but I still had no clue what to do.

"You have money for the bus?" he asked, checking his watch. It'll be here in a few minutes.

I felt around in my pockets and found a few spare coins. "How do you know the bus schedule, anyway?" I asked, giving him a puzzled look.

"I never drive here," he answered. He didn't elaborate and I decided not to ask.

When the bus showed up, David started walking away. "Aren't you coming?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, I'm gonna walk home. I'm not in much of a hurry," he said, giving a sad smile.

As I stepped onto the bus, I stared after David. I never thought it would happen, but I actually felt sorry for him. He may have had everything I didn't, but he'd lost everything I still had.

X X X

"C'mon," Two-Bit pleaded, holding the deck of cards out to me. "Pick a card."

I groaned and chose a random card. Two-Bit had been "entertaining" me for the last couple of hours with card tricks. So far, most of them had been complete busts. It didn't matter anyway; I didn't care about the tricks, whether they worked or not. A dull pain still pulsed in my jaw, making it impossible to forget why Two-Bit was attempting to distract me.

"And, voila! Your card!" Two-Bit whipped the four of clubs out with a flourish and I couldn't help but give a small smile at the show he was putting on.

"I had the ace of diamonds," I told him a bit reluctantly. He frowned and studied the pile of cards. "It's okay, Two-Bit. It doesn't matter. Thanks for trying, anyway."

"Maybe if I teach you the tricks," he suggested hopefully.

I shook my head. "I'm really not in the mood."

With a sigh, he tossed the cards on the table and flicked the T.V. on. I couldn't blame him for being frustrated. I knew I'd been less than cooperative all night, but it was taking most of my willpower to even stay in the living room.

We lapsed into silence as Two-Bit flipped through the channels and finally settled on _I Love Lucy_. It was a good episode, but I couldn't focus on it any more than I could on the card tricks. Even Two-Bit was somber, occasionally chuckling at the antics, but never laughing.

When the commercial came on, I got up and wandered over to the front window. The street was empty, nothing visible but shadows. "He'll be back soon," Two-Bit spoke up from the couch. I nodded, but I wasn't sure I believed him. It had been hours since Pony had run off. Last time this had happened, he hadn't come home for a week.

Headlights suddenly flooded the living room. I squinted, managing to focus on the outline of Darry's truck in the driveway. Panic suddenly surged through me as I realized how furious he'd be at what had happened. I turned to Two-Bit. "Don't tell Darry."

He stared at me incredulously. "I think he's gonna figure it out, Soda. The left side of your jaw's black and blue and Pony's ain't here. Darry's not stupid."

He was right. There was no way I could hide the bruise, and even if I made something up, I wouldn't be able to explain Pony's absence. I closed my eyes as the front door opened.

"Hey, guys," Darry greeted. He sounded tired, and as I reluctantly opened my eyes, I saw his shoulders were slumped. Guilt gnawed at me knowing I was about to make everything worse. As soon as he saw me, his eyes widened. "What happened, Soda?" he asked, coming over to examine my jaw.

I crossed my arms in front of me and shifted uncomfortably. When I didn't answer, he turned to Two-Bit. "Tell him, Soda," Two-Bit urged.

"Soda?" Darry questioned again. I hesitated, and Darry's eyes suddenly flashed in understanding. "Where's Ponyboy?"

I bit my lip and looked down. "He's not here," I said quietly.

"What the hell happened?" Darry growled. I winced at the anger in his voice. "Soda, tell me."

"It was my fault," I started. "He asked me to go away and I wouldn't listen to him."

"So he punched you?" I nodded. "Where's Pony now?" I didn't get the chance to answer. The front door creaked open and Pony stepped inside. As soon as Darry saw him, he started in. "What the hell were you thinking, Ponyboy?" he screamed. Pony stepped back an inch, his eyes flicking nervously between me and Darry. Darry had yelled at him plenty of times, but I'd never heard him this angry before.

"Darry, wait!" I cried, quickly moving in between my brothers.

"Wait? Wait for what, Soda? I've had enough of this!" Darry glared furiously past me at Pony.

"It doesn't matter! It was my fault, anyway."

"That's bullshit, Soda," Darry hissed, turning his attention to me.

Behind me, Pony seemed to sense his opportunity. He darted past us, hurrying down the hall and slamming his door closed. Darry immediately moved to go after him and I scrambled to block his path.

"Please, Darry!" I begged. "Please, just let it go."

He glanced down the hall, fury still burning in his eyes. I knew I couldn't make this go away, but I was desperate to make it stop, at least for tonight. I couldn't stand to listen to Darry chew Pony out for what happened, and even more, I was terrified of what Pony would say back. I already knew he hated me. I didn't want to hear him say it.

"Darry, please," I tried again.

Finally he sighed and backed down. "Fine."

I let out a breath as relief washed over me. "Thanks," I said, trying to smile but failing.

Darry nodded curtly before starting to push past me again. "I'm going to bed," he muttered. He quickly walked the few steps to his room and slammed the door behind him. I jumped as the sound reverberated through the house. Darry had never slammed his door in my face before, not even when we were kids.

"You okay?" Two-Bit asked, coming up beside me.

I shook my head, still staring in shock at the two closed doors in front of me.

X X X

Please review! It's the only way I know what you think. ;)


	36. Chapter 36

So sorry again for the long wait. :( I lost my focus on the story for a while, but I think it's back now. :) This chapter is a little shorter than the last couple, but it's not too bad—and it was the only way to update without waiting for another week. Sorry for any typos; I'll admit, I only proofread this once, and there's currently a concert going on across the street that is killing my concentration, but I think I caught all, or most of the mistakes. :)

X X X

I can't remember how it all began to break  
You suffer, I live to fight and die another day

~~Breaking Benjamin—Fade Away

X X X

A piercing, incessant buzzing filled the room, wrenching me awake. I slammed my hand down on the alarm clock and was rewarded with a loud crash as it was knocked to the ground. "Damn it," I muttered. I fumbled with the light switch on my lamp, managing to turn it on after a couple of tries, and groaned as I saw the glass on the alarm clock had cracked. It seemed to still be ticking though, so I put it back on the nightstand for the time being.

I could hear the shower already running, so I changed quickly into my work clothes and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. I grabbed things out of the fridge automatically, too tired to pay much attention. It had been almost three in the morning before I'd gotten to sleep. I couldn't get the sound of Soda's pleading voice out of my head. I didn't understand how he could defend Pony after what had happened. How could he think it was _his_ fault that Pony had hit him?

"Morning."

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the unexpected voice behind me. I spun around to find Two-Bit standing in the kitchen doorway. "Geez, Two-Bit," I grumbled, turning back to the stove and throwing the bacon in the pan. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry, Dare. You knew I was here," he said, helping himself to a glass of juice.

I stared at him blankly. "What do you mean, I knew? I don't keep tabs on you."

He checked over his shoulder quickly before turning back to me. "It was my turn to keep an eye on Soda," he explained.

Realization dawned on me and I sighed. "Right. Sorry, Two-Bit."

He waved it off before fixing me with a concerned look. "You feeling okay, Superman?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied, cracking the eggs into a second pan. "I just didn't sleep well last night." The truth was, I was exhausted; I would've slept straight through till tomorrow morning if someone had let me. That was out of the question, though. Even if I called in sick to work, there was too much else to deal with.

"If you say so."

I glared at him, but he ignored it, instead just sitting back and watching me cook.

"Hi," a soft voice came from the doorway. Pony was standing there, rubbing his arm and looking between me and Two-Bit uncertainly. Everything I'd wanted to scream at him the night before came rushing back. I stepped towards him, prepared to give him the worst lecture he'd ever had, when Two-Bit stopped me.

"Darry," he warned, looking pointedly at Soda's closed door.

"You're damn lucky, kid," I spat at Ponyboy, who winced. I finished making breakfast quickly and tossed the food onto four plates. Soda wasn't up yet, and I didn't plan to go get him. I wasn't too thrilled that he was letting Pony off the hook so easy. I knew he just wanted everything to go back to normal, but letting Pony treat him like that wouldn't help anything.

Pony scarfed down his food as fast as he could, avoiding eye contact. After a few minutes of tense silence, I couldn't take it anymore. "Why'd you do it, Pony?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Two-Bit shake his head, trying to get me to stop, but I ignored him. Pony sighed and finally looked up. "I don't know, Darry. I wasn't thinking straight."

"That's it? You weren't thinking straight?" I snapped. I could hear my voice rising, but I didn't care. Enough was enough. "What the hell kind of excuse is that, Pony?"

He glared at me furiously. "And what's wrong with that reason? It's the same one you had when you did it!" He pushed his chair back, not bothering to pick it up when it crashed to the floor. I sat frozen in place as he stormed down the hall to his room.

Two-Bit suddenly threw his fork down and stood up. "Damn it, Darry. You couldn't just let it drop?" He shook his head and muttered something under his breath before stalking out of the house.

"Darry?"

_Shit._

Soda stood in the doorway looking for all the world as if I had just hit him, too. I groaned; this morning just kept getting better and better.

"Breakfast is on the table," I *muttered. Nothing I said could make any difference at this point. I'd told him I'd drop it and I hadn't. The damage was done.

Soda ate in silence, his eyes glued to his plate. He looked as tired as I felt and I wondered if he'd had more nightmares last night. At this rate, it would only be a matter of time before he passed out from exhaustion again. When he'd finished, I took his plate to soak in the sink and scraped the rest of my breakfast into the trash. I hadn't had much appetite to begin with, and after the argument with Pony, it had entirely disappeared.

"Go get dressed," I instructed him. "I'll drive you to work."

"It's okay," he mumbled. "I can walk."

I sighed. I was tempted to just let him walk if he was going to be stubborn, but there was no way in hell I wanted to leave him alone when he was like this. "Go get dressed," I ordered.

"God, Darry, I'm not an invalid! I can walk. You're gonna be late if you wait for me."

I gritted my teeth and gripped the back of a chair. "The longer you take, the later I'll be, so get moving." I knew my tone didn't leave any room for argument. Soda glared, but he left to go get dressed. It didn't take long for him to come back.

"What about Pony?" he asked.

"What about him?"

"He's still in his room. Aren't you gonna drive him to school?"

"Quit worrying about Pony and start worrying more about yourself," I snapped. "It's your first day back to work and the last thing you need is to get fired for being late. Pony's a big boy, he can walk to school."

Soda muttered a few choice words under his breath before brushing past me and slamming the front door behind him. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my temper in check. Right then, I wanted nothing more than to knock some sense into both him and Ponyboy.

Scratch that. What I really wanted was to make the people who had hurt Soda in the first place pay.

Outside, the truck horn blared. Sighing, I laced up my work boots and headed out.

X X X

"Hey! Earth to Darrel!"

"Huh?" I looked up in confusion, trying to figure out who was calling me, and cringed when I realized it was my boss. "Sorry, Mr. Jackson. What do you need?"

He frowned and shook his head at me. "What I need is for my best worker to snap out of whatever daydream you were in and pay attention. What's going on, anyway?"

"It's nothing, sir," I said quickly, grabbing a bundle of roofing tiles.

He stepped into my path and grabbed the bundle, forcing me to drop it back to the ground. "Don't give me that bullshit, Curtis. What the hell's been going on with you this past week? You look like a walking corpse. You didn't even shave this morning."

I rubbed my hand over my chin and swore when I felt the stubble. "Sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Christ, Darrel. I don't care about that. What I care about is _you_ not shaving. It ain't normal. Now, are you gonna tell me what's going on or am I gonna have to send you home so you can get some sleep?"

I tried to suppress a groan. With Soda's hospital bills, I couldn't afford time off. Not to mention, home was the last place I wanted to be right now. "It's my brother, sir. He's been having a rough time since he got back home and this week was worse than most."

Mr. Jackson's features softened some. "It's been a couple months. Have you taken him to see anyone?"

"He talked to a doctor at the hospital, but it didn't do much."

"Wilson?"

I nodded, surprised he knew the name.

"He's an ass. My sister went to him after she miscarried. He took her money and didn't do a Goddamn thing to help her. Try Carson, she swore by him."

"Carson?" I asked, dumbfounded. I'd expected Mr. Jackson to chew me out, tell me to keep family and work separate. I sure as hell hadn't expected advice.

"Yeah, Carson's got a private practice not that far from the hospital. He's a little more expensive, but he'll actually do something for ya. I can probably swing you some extra hours around here if ya need them."

"Uh, yeah," I stammered, still trying to wrap my head around the conversation. "That'd be great. I'm not sure Soda's gonna agree to it, though." I thought about how adamant Soda had been about avoiding doctors in the first place; I was sure he'd be even more against it after the past week.

"Well, when he's ready, send him over there. He'll like this guy, I promise. Now, you gonna be okay to finish the day?"

I nodded mutely and he walked away, apparently satisfied.

X X X

"Morning, Steve."

I looked up from the toast I was buttering and smiled at Evie. "Morning."

"What time did you get in last night?" she asked, putting a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster.

I shrugged. "Around one, I think." She nodded, but didn't answer, instead starting to leaf through the newspaper. I fiddled with the toast left on my plate, suddenly not hungry anymore. A silent Evie was never a good sign and an angry Evie was the last thing I wanted. With everything else going on, she was the only thing holding me together. I couldn't lose her. "Are you mad?" I asked nervously, already knowing the answer.

She looked up at me and glared. "You could've called. I didn't have a clue where the hell you were."

I sighed. "I'm sorry, Evie. I just needed to blow off some steam. Besides, you can't know where I am all the time. You have to trust me." I bit my lip, hoping I hadn't just set her off worse.

She frowned. "I do trust you, Steve. It's just, I feel like I've hardly seen you this past week. I was looking forward to spending some time with you."

Guilt started to creep in as I realized why she was upset. I'd spent almost all my free time with Soda, mostly just seeing Evie in passing. Until Pony had pissed me off, I'd been looking forward to spending the night with her, too.

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I know I've been gone a lot lately. But you know I'm with Soda, right? There's nothing else going on."

She chuckled and I felt myself relax. "I know, Steve. I told you, I trust you. And I'm glad you're trying to help Soda, I really am. I just figured that since Two-Bit was going to be there last night, you'd be home."

"I was gonna be."

"So why weren't you?"

I felt my anger from the previous night return as I remembered how Pony had treated Soda. "Ponyboy just pissed me off. I needed to get out for a while."

"He still isn't talking to Soda?" she asked sadly.

I shook my head. "No, and it's really taking its toll on Sodapop. He thinks he deserves how Pony's treating him. I'm not sure how much longer he can handle it."

Evie sighed and shook her head. I wondered briefly who she wanted to smack more: Pony for acting like an asshole, or Soda for accepting it. "You want me to talk to him?"

"You mean Pony?" I asked. She nodded and I scoffed. "You can try, but I don't think even you can penetrate that thick skull of his."

Evie didn't answer; instead she silently collected the dirty dishes and put them in the sink. "Don't push it with Pony," she spoke up after a minute. "You know he won't listen to you. He might come around with time, but hearing constant lectures from everyone is just going to make him more stubborn."

I sighed and nodded, knowing she was right. "So what am I supposed to do, then?"

"Just be there for Soda," she said, smiling softly. "Make sure he's okay and safe. For now, that's all anyone can do."

X X X

Not where I had planned to end it, but I sorta like it. As always, I love to hear what you think!


	37. Chapter 37

Thank you once again to everyone who reviewed. :) To A. Nonymous, I really appreciate your review. I'm sorry the story has been difficult to read, but I am glad to know you feel it's realistic. It means a lot to hear that from someone who's been through some of this firsthand. If you ever need to talk, feel free to PM me. I expect you don't want to share your life with a total stranger, but I certainly don't mind being a friendly ear anyway.

I had a lot of trouble deciding on lyrics for this chapter. In the end, the song I chose really only fits the middle section, but I went with it anyway.

X X X

If I never knew you  
I'd never love you  
If I never loved you  
Then I wouldn't cry

~~Hedley—Sugar Free

X X X

I pulled into the DX parking lot and took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for another long day. I remembered when the shifts Soda and I worked together were the ones we looked forward to. The time always passed faster, even on the slowest days. But that was before. Now, I felt like I was walking on eggshells half the time I was around him.

The sound of an engine brought me out of my thoughts and I looked up to see a Ford pulling away from the pumps. Brad was there and I knew I should get going. I was already nearly late. Reluctantly, I got out of the truck and headed in the back door to punch in. Soda was in the hallway grabbing supplies off the shelf. He turned when he heard the door and nodded at me.

"Morning, Steve."

I was about to answer when he turned and I got a good look at his face. The bruise stood out against his too pale skin. There wasn't much doubt in my mind where it came from. Soda wouldn't have been out on his own, and Two-Bit and Darry wouldn't have let him get in a fight if they could help it.

"What happened?"

"What're you talking about?"

From the way he was avoiding my eyes, I could tell he knew exactly what I was talking about. "Don't play dumb, Soda," I snapped.

He paused and looked down at the box in his hands. "It's nothing. Just drop it, Steve."

He started walking back towards the store. I followed him, not ready to let this go. "Cut the crap. It was Pony, wasn't it?"

Soda whirled to face me. "It doesn't matter, Steve."

It wasn't hard to see he was angry, but I didn't care. This had gone on long enough. It was time to make Ponyboy see reason. I stormed back the way I'd come, heading for my truck.

"Steve!" Soda called after me. "Where're you going?"

"To fix this," I growled, ignoring the hurried footsteps following me. I didn't care if he didn't like it. He couldn't keep protecting the kid. A line had to be drawn, and if he wasn't gonna do it, I sure as hell would.

Just as I reached my truck, Soda jumped in front of me, blocking my path. "Steve, wait."

I slammed my fist into the side of the truck. Soda flinched, but he didn't back down. "God, Soda. Why do you keep standing up for him? He fucking punched you!"

"Do you really think going after him is gonna help?"

"Do you really think doing nothing is gonna help?" I countered, glaring at him.

"Please, just let it go, Steve." His voice was nearly a whisper and as he looked at me, waiting to see what I would do, I could see the desperation in his eyes. "Please?"

With a deep breath, I took a step back. My fists were still clenched tightly, my fingernails digging into my palms, but I forced myself to stay where I was.

Soda was still tense as he eyed me warily. "Will you leave him alone?"

I sighed and shook my head in exasperation. "Why, Soda? Why do you want to protect him so much after how he's acted?"

He was quiet for a minute, his eyes fixed on his feet. "Cause no matter what he does, what I did was worse."

He chanced a glance up at me and as I got a good look at his face, I could see he was barely holding it together. His eyes were bloodshot and I realized he'd probably spent a good part of the night before crying.

"What did Darry do?"

As upset as Soda already was, he looked even more miserable at the mention of Darry. "He said he'd drop it, but this morning…" He shrugged. He didn't need to finish the sentence. I could take a pretty good guess what happened.

Hoping I was doing the right thing, I took a step back and raised my hands in surrender. "Fine. I'll leave the kid alone."

"You promise?"

I sighed and nodded. Yeah, I promise." I still wasn't convinced that letting Ponyboy get away with this was a good idea, but it looked like going after him was only going to make it worse.

We both jumped as a loud bang sounded from behind. I spun around to see Brad standing at the back doorway, glaring at us. "Soda, you got a lineup. Steve, you're late. Get your ass in here before I fire it." He disappeared before either of us could respond.

Soda offered me a small smile as we headed inside. "Thanks, Steve."

I just nodded at him, still not happy about the situation. I hoped Evie might have a chance to talk to Pony. She had a better shot than the rest of us at making him see reason.

"Sorry, Brad," I said, taking over the pump of the car he was filling up. He grumbled something inaudible before heading into the garage. I smirked at his retreating back. He'd get distracted working with the cars and in a couple of hours he wouldn't care that I was late.

Time passed quickly, a steady stream of customers keeping me too busy to think much. Most were regulars and had the annoying habit of trying to strike up a conversation when, really, I couldn't care less about how their lives were going. It came with the territory, though, and I did my best to keep the fake smile plastered on my face as I pretended to listen to them.

When it finally slowed down, I snuck behind the building for a quick smoke. Brad was already there, halfway through his own cigarette. "Soda holding up okay?" he asked as I sat down.

"As well as you'd expect," I answered, shrugging.

"He looks like crap." Brad leaned back and watched me.

Keeping my best poker face on, I stuck to the story I'd given him on Friday. "It was a pretty bad flu. Knocked him out for most of the weekend."

He was silent for a minute before shaking his head. "I might believe that if you didn't look nearly as bad as he did. I don't know what's really going on, but I know it wasn't the flu. I also know that Soda wouldn't flake out without a good reason. What really happened?"

I sighed and leaned forward, pinching the bridge of my nose. Brad deserved to know the truth, but it wasn't my place to tell him. I had a feeling that if Soda's wrists hadn't already been covered in scars, he would've figured it out on his own. But the marks from Thursday were barely visible through all of the other cuts that still lingered.

When he realized he wasn't going to get an answer, he stood up and headed for the door. "Look, whatever it is, just make sure he's okay."

X X X

I stared at my feet as I shifted nervously, waiting for the light to change so I could cross the street. The DX was visible a couple blocks away, but I didn't want to look at. Guilt had been gnawing my insides all day and it was only getting worse now that school was done. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get Soda's voice out of my head. Somehow, hearing him say it was his fault that I'd punched him just made me feel worse. I was still furious with him for what he did, but it was my fault I'd lost my temper, not his. I wanted to tell him that much at least, even if I couldn't do more.

Without warning, I was shoved forward and I stumbled, losing my balance and nearly falling. "Stupid greaser." I looked up to find a Soc shooting me a dirty look over his shoulder as he crossed the street. The light had changed while I hadn't been paying attention and apparently the Soc couldn't be bothered to go around me. I clenched my fists, but stayed where I was. I was in enough trouble with Darry without adding a meaningless fight into the mix.

When the light changed again a few minutes later, I slowly crossed the street. I was dreading seeing Soda, even for a minute. I'd heard him come out of his room this morning after I'd lost it on Darry, but I'd made sure to stay out of the kitchen till after he'd left the house. It had made me twenty minutes late for my first class, but I didn't care. I hadn't been able to face him. It was only after replaying everything in my head all day that I was forcing myself to go the DX now.

The building gradually came into better focus as I got closer. When I was almost there, I stopped beside the building across the street. I could make out Soda behind the counter inside and suddenly, I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to him. I wasn't sure I could stop myself from blowing up again and the last thing I wanted was to make everything worse.

"Are you hoping he's going to read your mind?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the unexpected voice behind me. I whirled around and found myself face to face with Evie. She crossed her arms and stared at me, waiting for an answer.

"No," I sighed. What I wouldn't give at that moment for Soda to be able to read my mind. Or, on second thought, I'd love to be able to read his, cause I sure didn't think I could figure it out without some sort of supernatural help.

"Then what're you waiting for?" Evie asked. I shrugged. "Are you afraid he won't want to listen to you?"

"No."

"Are you afraid he will listen?"

I frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if he listens to you maybe you'll end up saying something you're not sure you want to say."

"You mean I might tell him I forgive him?" She nodded and I shook my head scornfully. "No. Trust me, there's no danger of that."

"Then why are you here?"

"I was just gonna say sorry for last night."

She tilted her head. "What happened last night?"

Shit. I should've realized she wouldn't know and kept my mouth shut.

"Pony, what did you do?" she asked, the urgency clear in her voice.

I glared at her. I was sick of being the bad guy all the time. "Why are you assuming I did something?" I snapped.

"Why else would you need to apologize?"

I opened my mouth to retort, but nothing came out. She was right; there hadn't been any other way to take my comment. I stared at my feet, not wanting to see her face. "I punched him."

"Oh God, Pony," she sighed.

I looked up to find her watching Sodapop across the street. He was leaning on the counter with his head in his hands, looking nothing less than defeated. "I didn't mean to," I whispered. Seeing Soda like that was horrible, especially knowing I was part of the cause.

"Then why are you still standing here?" she asked, turning to me. "If you're sorry for what happened, he needs to know."

She was right, I knew she was, but I stayed put. I didn't know how Soda would react if he saw me. If he begged me to forgive him again, I didn't think I'd be able to stand it. On the other hand, if he'd given up, I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle that, either. The bottom line was, at that moment in time, I hated him. I hated him for always being there for me, for everything he'd ever done for me. I hated him for shutting me out. I hated him for how he was making me feel right now. It wasn't fair, and I hated him for that, too.

"Talk to him, Pony," Evie urged quietly. She moved to cross the street, then looked back over her shoulder briefly. "Before it's too late."

I watched her go, wondering if she was right. If I waited too long, would I get another chance?

X X X

I let the Curtis' front door slam behind me as I trudged into the house. I was too exhausted to care how much noise I made, and no one would be home anyway. Darry and Soda were at work and Ponyboy was still avoiding the house like the plague. I was only there so I could watch Soda once Two-Bit brought him home. A quick scan through the house told me I was right; I was alone. I collapsed onto the couch, hoping to catch a few minutes of sleep. Ever since I'd seen the bruise on Soda's face the day before, I'd wanted nothing more than to go after Pony again. I'd been awake half the night and when I'd finally fallen asleep, it had been far from restful.

Just as I felt myself drifting off, the door slammed again. Startled and half asleep, I jumped up, lost my balance, and fell off the couch. I groaned and picked myself up off the floor, rubbing my elbow where it had connected with the hard surface.

"Why the hell do ya gotta be so noisy?" I grumbled. I looked up to the doorway, expecting to see Soda or Two-Bit, but instead found Pony. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He recovered quickly and brushed past me to the kitchen.

"I didn't know you'd be here. It's not like it's your house."

My fists clenched as I glared at his back. "Watch your mouth, kid."

He shrugged. "I'm just telling the truth. I live here. You don't."

"You live here?" I scoffed. "I've been here more in the past week than you have."

"And you think that makes this your house or something?" he asked, turning to face me. "You may be Soda's best friend, but he's my brother. So why don't you just leave me the hell alone and mind your own business?"

I'd been pissed off at the kid before this, but now I was furious. "He's your brother?" I yelled, and I felt a small sense of satisfaction when Pony flinched. "You sure as hell aren't acting liking it! You haven't even tried to forgive him."

"Why should I?" he spat.

The urge to punch him flared and I clenched my fists harder. "Because you're fucking killing him, Ponyboy!"

Pony shook his head. "He's doing that all on his own."

"And you don't think you're helping the process along, kid? God knows why, but he loves you more than anything. If you keep treating him like shit, then by the time you're ready to forgive him there won't be anything left."

His face clouded over for a few seconds before he shrugged it off. "Why the hell are you even here, Steve? Soda's not home yet and I'm sure you didn't come here to see me."

I bit my lip, trying to keep my temper in check. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm waiting for Soda cause it's my turn to watch him. While you're off being a selfish little prick, the rest of us are trying to keep your brother alive."

"So you have been watching me?"

I groaned as I heard Soda's voice behind me. I turned around to find him standing in the living room, his expression furious. Behind him, Two-Bit shrugged at me, as unsure what to do as I was now that we'd been caught.

"Soda, how much did you hear?"

"I heard enough," he answered, glaring at me. "I knew Darry was watching me, and I could deal with that. But I was hoping I was wrong about you and Two-Bit."

"We were worried. What did you expect us to do, Soda?" Two-Bit asked.

Soda whirled on him. "I expected you to trust me! I said I wouldn't do it again. I've never lied to you before. Shouldn't that count for something?"

"That was before, Soda," I said, stepping forward. "This wasn't just some little white lie. You can't honestly think we'd just forget about it and move on."

"So, what? You were planning to be my permanent shadow or something? I don't need a fucking babysitter!" Before anyone could react, he'd stormed down the hall and slammed his door shut.

"Nice going," Pony muttered before following his brother and slamming his own door.

Sighing, I turned to Two-Bit. "Now what?"

"Hell if I know," he said, sitting down on the couch. "I don't think there's much we can do. He ain't gonna listen to us right now."

"So we should just do nothing?"

Two-Bit nodded. "There's nothing left in his room he can hurt himself with. He'll get hungry eventually and come out. Till then, all we can do is wait."

I didn't like it, but he was probably right. Soda was stubborn and he wasn't going to listen when he was this angry. "Fine. I'll start dinner. Maybe it'll help if he smells food. What do you want?"

"Pizza."

I rolled my eyes and ignored the comment. Two-Bit always said pizza, even when it wasn't what he actually wanted. "C'mon you lazy sack of bones. Get in here and help."

He gave me a goofy grin as he got up to follow me into the kitchen. He was better company than he was help, but right then, it was what I needed. I found a roast in the fridge, which I assumed Darry had planned to cook tonight. I hoped having dinner on the table when he got home would put him in a good mood, cause he sure wasn't gonna be happy when he found out Soda knew what we'd been doing.

Ponyboy came out of his room while we were waiting for the roast to cook, dressed for work. He paused for a minute and glanced between us before heading silently out the front door.

"You think he'll stop acting like such an idiot anytime soon?" I asked, watching him cross the street to the bus stop.

"Cut him some slack," Two-Bit said, shooting me a glare. "He's just a kid. He doesn't know how to deal with this."

"He's the same age Soda was when Sandy cheated on him and got knocked up. He's older than when my mom or your dad took off."

"And what would you do if your mom walked through that door right now? Give her a big hug and tell her it's okay, that what she did doesn't matter?"

I tried to come up with an answer, but nothing came to mind. He was right; I'd be livid if my mom showed up.

"Just back off Pony for a while, okay, Steve?"

I sighed and nodded. "Fine."

"Good. Now, are you supposed to be doing something with the rest of that food there?" He pointed towards the vegetables and potatoes on the counter. I rolled my eyes and grabbed his arm, pulling him up and forcing him to help finish making the dinner. Darry made it home just as we were pulling the roast out of the oven.

"Since when do you cook?" he asked me as he eyed the dinner.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Why does everyone find it so hard to believe that I know my way around a kitchen?"

Darry chuckled and poured himself a glass of milk. "I believe it. I've just never seen it." As he looked around, his smile quickly disappeared. "Where's Sodapop?"

Two-Bit and I glanced at each other. "He's in his room."

Darry looked between us, sensing the tension. "What happened?"

With a sigh, I explained how he'd found out that we'd been taking turns keeping an eye on him.

"And he hasn't come out since?" Darry asked, worry lacing his voice.

"No. We were hoping he'd come out to eat."

Darry sighed and glanced towards Soda's closed door. "I'll go check on him."

I started chewing on a worn down fingernail while we waited to see if Darry would be able to convince Soda to eat. He was gone less than a minute before we heard him swear. My stomach plummeted to my feet and I looked at Two-Bit to find my fear reflected in his eyes. It took us a matter of seconds to reach Soda's room.

"God damn it," I muttered as I took in the sight before me. The window was wide open and Soda was nowhere to be seen.

X X X

Reviews make me happy :)


	38. Chapter 38

One week and another update…that's definitely faster than normal lately. :) Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

So, the final part of this chapter was written over two years ago. It's a little hard to believe I'm finally posting it. It's actually the first part of the story I wrote, so in my mind, everything has been leading up to it. Maybe that's just me being crazy, but hey, two years is a long time! And, it only took 220 pages to get to it. For anyone interested, I can tell you the exact lines this story started with. I also chose the lyrics for this chapter a long time ago. It's a beautiful song and I highly recommend listening to it. Yes, it's by Disturbed, but it's not their normal style.

And, onwards…

X X X

Don't turn away  
I pray you've heard  
The words I've spoken  
Dare to believe  
Over one last time

~~Disturbed—Darkness

X X X

I paced the short length of my room, fuming. I didn't want to believe my friends could do this to me, but I really wasn't that surprised. Over the past few days I'd become more and more sure that Steve and Two-Bit had been helping Darry watch me. It had seemed like too big of a coincidence that Two-Bit's sister had a birthday party and Evie's mom was sick on the only days Darry had actually bothered to go to bed. I hated the idea of even just Darry keeping watch, but I'd been too scared of what he'd say if I called him out on it. Besides, I knew he couldn't watch me around the clock, so I'd bit my tongue and tried to ignore it. But knowing that Steve and Two-Bit had been in on it, that they'd practically been holding me hostage, was too much.

"_That was before, Soda. This wasn't just some little white lie. You can't honestly think we'd just forget about it and move on."_

Steve's words echoed in my head and I closed my eyes, trying to block them out. My own best friend didn't trust me. Nothing I said or did at this point mattered. No one believed me when I said they didn't need to worry. To them, I was just a ticking bomb that could go off at any time.

I opened my eyes, looking for something, anything, to attack. Immediately, my gaze landed on the window; it only took a second for me to make my decision. Everyone had made it pretty damn clear that they had no faith in me, so what was there left to lose?

I slid the window open and lifted one leg over, careful not to make a sound. After checking that no one was around, I brought my other leg over and dropped the last foot to the ground. I'd never snuck out before. Mom and Dad had always been fairly easygoing and when they had died, I'd been too old for Darry to have much say in my social life. A bitter laugh escaped me as I realized that I'd had all the freedom I'd wanted as a kid and it was only as a grown adult that I was sneaking out.

Rage fueled the first few blocks as I walked as fast as I could away from my house. What right did they have to keep me trapped in my own home, only letting me out if they were with me? Some small part of my mind knew that they meant well, but I didn't care. Most days, it took every last ounce of energy I had to keep the memories of what happened at bay, and even when I tried my hardest, it never completely worked. All it took was one small reminder, one tiny slip up on my part, and everything would come crashing back. It knocked the breath out of me every single time. It didn't matter what Steve's and Two-Bit's intentions were; I couldn't cope with having my every move watched.

I turned a corner and shivered as the wind suddenly whipped against my face. I crossed my arms across my chest, trying to keep myself warm. I was still in my DX uniform and the cold was piercing my bare arms. Grabbing a sweater before I'd left would've been a great idea, but I'd been too upset to think much about practicalities.

Looking around, I spotted a coffee shop across the street and quickly hurried over to it. It was the perfect spot to hide out for a while until I felt ready to deal with everyone again. I found a booth in the back corner and settled in, rubbing my hands in an effort to warm them up.

"Can I get ya something?"

I jumped in surprise; I hadn't realized anyone had even noticed me come in. A young waitress was standing next to the table, snapping her gum as she impatiently waited for me to respond. "Uh—I'll take a hot chocolate," I said, ordering the first drink that popped into my head. She walked off without a word, returning a minute later with the steaming drink.

As I wrapped my hands around the mug, I felt myself start to relax. When I was a kid, Mom had always made me hot chocolate whenever I was upset about something. It didn't matter if it was the middle of the worst heat wave in history, it had always made me feel better. The restaurant hot chocolate tasted different, and especially with Mom gone it wasn't the same, but it still felt good.

"Hi, Soda."

My drink spilled as I jumped for the second time and I muttered a curse as my hand burned from the hot liquid. I quickly pulled some napkins out of the dispenser on the table and wiped off my hand before turning to glare at the newcomer. I froze when I saw who it was.

"I'm sorry, Soda," Rose apologized. "Is your hand okay?"

It took me a minute to recover from the shock of seeing her, but I managed a nod.

"How's your drink? Do you need a new one?"

Still stunned, I just shook my head. Rose's smile dropped.

"Are you okay, Hon? I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to scare you."

I tightened my hold on the mug, letting it calm my nerves, and finally managed to speak. "It's okay, Rose. I don't mind."

She studied me and, apparently satisfied that I was telling the truth, her smile returned. "Can I sit down?"

"Uh, yeah, of course," I stammered, nodding. I wasn't really sure what to say to her, but it felt good to see her again. It had only been a few days since I'd left the hospital, but it felt like half a lifetime had passed.

"How are you?" she asked once she had settled in. It was such a normal question, but she meant so much more by it than most people. I wanted to lie to her and tell her I was doing good, that things were turning around now that I was back home, but I couldn't do it. She'd see right through it, anyway. When I didn't answer, she reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Soda?"

I stared down at my hot chocolate, wishing I could find it as comforting as I had a few minutes ago. She waited for an answer, squeezing my hand again when I didn't say anything. "Horrible," I finally admitted. "My little brother hates me. Nobody trusts me. They've been taking turns watching me to make sure I don't do anything stupid."

"They need some time to deal with everything," Rose said quietly.

"I know. But do they need to be hovering over me every second of the day?"

"Where are they now?" She glanced around the small room before turning back to me. I looked back down at the table, knowing she wasn't going to like what I said next.

"They're not here. I took off."

Rose sighed and shook her head. "Oh, Soda. You know you probably only made things worse."

I nodded and swallowed hard against the lump forming in my throat. "I know, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I just needed a break."

She leaned forward. "And that's all you were planning on, right? Just a break?"

My eyes widened at her suggestion. "I wasn't gonna do anything! Why doesn't anyone believe that it was a mistake?"

"It's okay, Hon," she soothed, taking my hand in hers again. "I believe you. I just need to make sure."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling bad for yelling at her. She was one of the only people who wasn't furious with me, and even though I barely knew her, I didn't want to lose her, too.

She gave me a smile and shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I understand, Soda."

I pulled my hand back and turned it over, examining the scars that circled my wrist. Most of them, the ones that were etched permanently into my mind, looked identical. Now, though, there was one on each wrist that was different, longer and thinner than the rest. I'd spent countless hours in the past week studying them, trying to figure out why they were there, and I was still at a loss. I knew why I'd used that knife; the memories had overwhelmed me, plain and simple. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't understand why I had let them take over, why I hadn't fought harder to stay in control.

"No offense, Rose, but you don't understand." I looked back up at her and shrugged helplessly. "I don't even understand."

"Three months is a long time," she said gently. "I've read your file. I know what happened to you. No one expects you to just be okay after that."

"You're right," I agreed. "Three months is a long time. It's how long I was there for, but it's also how long I've been back. Shouldn't I start to feel better by now?"

"No, you shouldn't."

I stared at her in disbelief, more than a little surprised by her answer. "No? So what, I'm supposed to feel this way forever?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. But I'm not surprised that you feel just as awful as when you got home."

She was silent, watching me. Sighing, I decided to take the bait. "Why not?"

"Have you talked to anyone about what happened?" she asked.

I groaned as I realized where this was going. "I talked to Dr. Wilson. For all the good it did," I muttered.

"No, you didn't talk to him."

I frowned at her, now completely confused. "What? Yes, I did. You said you read my file, Rose, so you know I talked to him."

"No, Soda," she sighed. "You didn't talk to him. You told him exactly the minimum you needed to at the time. I'm talking about a real conversation with someone you trust."

Understanding now what she was getting at, I looked back down at the table. "No. I told Steve about the fan belt, and I told Darry that they used rope, but that's it."

"And why haven't you told them more?" she prodded.

Still keeping my eyes locked on the table, I shrugged. "I didn't want them to know."

"Why not?"

I shrugged again, avoiding the question.

"Look, I can take some guesses about why you haven't told them, but no matter what your reasons are, it doesn't change what it's doing. Soda, the men who did this to you may be dead, but they still have all the power, and you're the one giving it to them. It has to stop."

The world seemed to spin as I realized she was right. When I'd been in the prison I'd been helpless and I hadn't stopped feeling that way even once I was home, but never once in all this time had it occurred to me that it was my own fault.

"Soda, you need to talk to someone," Rose insisted. Her voice was full of concern and I felt hot tears start to fall down my cheeks at her words. I wasn't sure I was ready to tell the gang everything. I tried so hard every day to forget what had happened; I didn't want to relive it all.

The tears continued to fall, blurring my vision, and I quickly stood up and stumbled out of the booth. "I've gotta go," I mumbled.

I heard her calling after me, even once I was out of the restaurant. I wasn't the fastest runner around, but Rose was older and it didn't take long before I couldn't hear her anymore. Once I was a couple blocks away, I slowed down, breathing hard. I wiped at my face, trying to get rid of the tears. It didn't make me feel any better. I couldn't get Rose's words out of my head and no matter how much I hated it, she was right. I was letting them win.

I had to tell someone, but I wasn't sure I was strong enough to do it.

X X X

I stared at the empty room in shock. Soda had actually left. He'd taken off and we didn't have the first clue where he could be. A ball of lead seemed to land in my stomach as scenarios started to run through my mind. If Soda tried something while he was gone, we didn't have any chance of saving him. He'd messed up the first time, and if he really wanted to hurt himself, he'd be sure not to make any mistakes a second time.

Steve ran out of the room and headed for the front door. Two-Bit immediately took off after him and blocked his path. "We've gotta go after him, Two-Bit!" Steve cried, trying to push is way past our friend.

"There's no point, Steve," I sighed. He turned to me and glared.

"So you're just going to let him wander around by himself and hope he comes back home?" he asked incredulously.

"I don't like it anymore than you do," I snapped. "But, it's been two hours since he went into his room. He probably left right away. He could be anywhere by now."

"He's right, Steve," Two-Bit agreed. "There's no way we're gonna find him unless he wants to be found."

"Well, what if he does?" Steve persisted. "Maybe he's waiting for us to come after him."

"You know that's not true."

Steve sighed and rubbed his face. "Yeah, you're right." He crossed the few steps to the couch and sunk down. "I can't believe he'd pull this."

"I can," I disagreed as Two-Bit and I joined him.

"You can?" Steve asked in surprise.

"Yeah. He's fought us on everything we've tried to do. Running is the only way he can make us stop watching him. I just wish I'd thought about it sooner and nailed his window shut."

Steve smirked at me. "He'd have figured out another way to do it."

"Steve's right," Two-Bit agreed. "We couldn't keep it up forever."

"I'm sorry, Dare," Steve sighed. "We should've gone after him as soon as he went into his room. If anything happens…"

"Don't, Steve," I said sharply. "We're all exhausted. I'm not surprised Soda took off, but I don't think I would've thought of it in time, either. It's not your fault."

He didn't say anything, but I knew he didn't believe me. There was nothing else I could say to make him feel better, though, and I was too tired to try, anyway. I wanted to go after Soda just as much as he did, but Tulsa was too big and Soda was smart enough to stay hidden. Instead, I watched the minutes tick by on the clock and tried not to think about what would happen if Soda didn't show up. We took turns checking his room in case he tried to sneak back in, but it was empty every time. At one point the phone rang, breaking through the thick silence and making us all jump. My hand was sweaty as I picked it up, praying it wasn't the hospital telling us Soda had been brought in, but it turned out to be Two-Bit's mom. She had to leave for work and wanted him home to watch his sister.

After Two-Bit left, Steve and I continued to wait in silence. When another hour had passed and Soda still hadn't come back, I started to wonder if Steve was right and we should go looking for him. Maybe we'd get lucky, though recent months sure didn't make me have much faith in that. Finally, at a little after eight, the front door creaked open and Soda stepped inside.

"I'll let Two-Bit know he's okay," Steve said, immediately standing up and pushing his way past Sodapop and out the front door. I had a feeling it was the only way he could stop himself from blowing up.

Soda winced as the door slammed and met my eyes fearfully, probably expecting a similar reaction.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

I closed my eyes for a second in an effort to keep myself calm. "Do you have any idea how worried we all were, Soda?" I asked, my voice low.

He nodded and looked down at the floor. "I know. I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it, Soda!" I yelled, all my earlier understanding disappearing. "Where the hell were you?"

"Does it really matter?" he asked, meeting my eyes again. I could see the exhaustion in them, but I didn't care. After what he'd pulled tonight, he was going to have to deal with me whether he wanted to or not.

"You're right, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you weren't here, where you were supposed to be."

"Where I was supposed to be?" he asked, anger seeping into his voice. "I'm nineteen, Darry! I'm not _supposed_ to be anywhere!"

"Like hell you're not. Ever since you've gotten back you've been acting like a child, so why shouldn't we treat you like one?"

He glared at me furiously before stalking past me, heading for his room. I grabbed his shoulder, not ready to let him off the hook yet. He wrenched himself away from my hand and whirled around to face me.

"Don't touch me! I—I can't—" He ran his hands through his hair and bowed his head. "I just…" He faltered and my frustration peaked.

"You just what? You'll try to kill yourself again?" I spat the words at him. I couldn't help it. I was just so angry. His head jerked up and I saw his stunned, hurt face, but I kept going. "You were so selfish, Soda! We went through hell, thinking you were gone! Every night you were missing I dreamt of your body lying mangled somewhere in the jungle. Every night I dreamt of a different way you might've died. And then we got you back, and you were going to just snatch that away from us?"

He paused, taken aback by my confession, but only for a minute. "You don't know what it was like, Darry!"

"Then tell me!" I screamed back. Soda let out a strangled sob. He covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head. I pushed on, more gently now. "Soda, you've been shutting us out for months. I can't help you if I don't know what happened."

Soda backed towards the wall like a cornered animal. I kept my distance, trying to show him he was safe now. When he reached the wall, he slid down it and sat with his knees curled up to his chest. I cautiously moved forward, making sure he wasn't going to panic, and sat on the floor facing him. I waited, letting him decide when he was ready to talk and hoping that he would at all. After a long time, he began.

"There was this one guard there," he whispered, staring at a spot on the floor. "He was stationed outside my cell when they took me there. I noticed him right away cause he was looking at me funny. I wasn't sure what it was then…I was too scared to think straight…but I realized later it was…lust." He spat this last word out with disgust and I felt a shiver run down my spine. This couldn't be heading where I thought it was.

"They beat me right when I got in the cell—kicked me. They dislocated my arm—for the first time," he added as an afterthought. I knew bits of this already. Soda hadn't shared much, but it hadn't been hard to figure out his arms had been dislocated at some point.

"That first night, the guard that had looked at me came into my cell. I thought he was gonna hit me, like the others had, and I just lay there. I didn't see the point in fighting back." Soda was still staring at the floor, but I could tell he wasn't really seeing it. His eyes were distant, reliving what had happened to him. "When the blow didn't come, I was surprised. I was even more surprised when I felt his hand on my face." Soda shuddered at the memory. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to let him know I was there for him, but I didn't want to spook him. "I didn't like him touching me and I tried to back away, but he held me down. I was sore and I was hungry. I didn't have the energy to fight very hard. He started pulling my shirt off. It hurt cause of my arm and I remember crying out. He musta liked that or something cause he...he kissed me."

Soda stumbled on his words and let out another sob. I risked moving my hand to his shoulder, trying to tell him that he didn't have to keep going. I could figure out the rest. He recoiled against my hand and I pulled it back. "It's okay, Soda," I said gently. "You can stop."

He finally met my eyes and the pain and terror I saw in them was worse than I could even begin to understand. "Darry, it hurt so much!" Soda's voice broke as he looked at me helplessly. I moved next to him against the wall and pulled him close to me, wrapping him in my arms. Now he let me touch him, hold him, and he broke down sobbing against me. "Help me, Darry. Please." His voice was tiny, smaller than I'd ever heard it. "I don't wanna hurt myself again. Please help me."

"Shh, it's okay, Soda," I whispered. "We'll help you. It's over now; you're home and you're safe. No one's going to hurt you anymore. We'll help you through this." Soda clung to me fiercely and I held him back just as tightly, not daring to let go.

X X X

Review would really mean a lot…


	39. Chapter 39

Hi everyone. :) It seems August and September aren't my time of year, are they? I'm sorry it's been over two months since I updated. I was doing fine till my netbook crashed and took the original version of this chapter with it. That sort of killed my motivation for a bit. But, I'm pretty happy with how this turned out in the end.

X X X

So far away from where you are

These miles have torn us worlds apart

And I miss you, yeah I miss you

~~Lifehouse—From Where You Are

X X X

_I hurried out the front doors of the school and down the pathway. Football practice had run late for the second time that week, and Mom was going to kill me if I let Sodapop walk home by himself again. Practice should've ended with just enough time for me to make it to Soda's school as he got out, but with playoffs coming up fast, Coach was working us harder than normal. I'd told Soda to wait for me if I didn't get there, but I wasn't too sure he'd listen._

"_Darry, wait up!" _

_The unexpected voice startled me out of my thoughts and I nearly tripped turning to see who'd spoken. Danielle Stone giggled as she saw me stumble and I blushed, quickly trying to cover up the mishap. She was sprinting across the football field, books clutched tightly to her chest and smiling widely. _

"_Hi, Darry," she greeted once she'd caught up to me. Her blue eyes were shining as she waited for my reply and I had to look away from them so I could think again._

"_Hi, Danielle," I mumbled. Despite having gone to the same middle school together for nearly two years now, I'd never spoken to her, but I sure knew who she was. Every guy in school knew who she was._

"_I was watching you out there," she said, motioning to the football field. "You're real good."_

"_You like football?" I asked, surprised._

_She nodded. "Of course I do."_

"_Me too," I answered without thinking, then mentally kicked myself as soon as I realized what I'd said. She giggled again and I tried to come up with a way to salvage the conversation, but she beat me to it._

"_You know what else I like?" she asked. I shook my head dumbly. "I like dancing." She smiled and her eyes sparkled._

_My face paled as I realized why she was talking to me. The school dance was this Friday and she wanted me to ask her to it. Danielle Stone was asking me to ask her out. _

_I opened my mouth, closed it again, then blurted out, "Doyouwanttogotothedancewithme?" The question was such a jumbled mess I wasn't sure she understood it, but she smiled and nodded._

"_I'd love to go with you," she said, turning away and heading back across the field to where her friends were waiting for her. "See you tomorrow, Darry!" she called over her shoulder. I stared after her in disbelief for a minute. I wasn't too sure how it had happened, but somehow I had a date with the prettiest girl in school._

_Once she and her friends were out of sight, I turned and continued down the pathway to the sidewalk. My mind started wandering, imagining the looks on my friends' faces once I told them, picturing how pretty Danielle would look on the night of the dance…_

"_Stay away!"_

_All thoughts of Danielle vanished and my blood ran cold. I'd recognize that voice anywhere._

_I reached the nearby alley in seconds. I'd told Soda to wait for me if I was late. Why couldn't he listen to anything I said?_

"_C'mon, kid. We just wanna have a little bit of fun. Isn't that right, Don?"_

_Soda was partway down the alley, backed against the wall and blocked on either side by two hoods. They both looked my age, but I didn't recognize either from school. The smaller of the two, Don I guessed, let out a cold laugh. _

"_Yeah, kid. You wouldn't want us to be bored, would ya?" He moved closer to Soda, whose eyes were wide and terrified, and wrapped his hand around Soda's throat. Even from this distance I could see Soda start to tremble, though he tried to hide it. I couldn't blame him. At ten years old, he didn't have a chance in hell of fighting off two teenagers._

"_Hey! Back off!" _

_The two hoods turned at the sound of my voice. The bigger one smirked. "This is our turf. Go find your own hunting ground."_

"_That's my brother," I growled. Soda, who'd been too focused on his tormentors to pay any attention to the newcomer, flicked his gaze towards me. Relief instantly washed over his face as he realized I was there._

_The one who had hold of Soda released him and eyed me, sizing me up. He was a bit smaller than I was and I thought I could probably take them both, but I didn't really want to with Soda so close. If he tried to help, he'd end up getting himself hurt. _

_I stepped closer to the hoods, glaring, and the smaller one backed up an inch. Recognizing my advantage, I moved even closer. They glanced at each other, and the bigger one jerked his head towards the other end of the alley. I relaxed as they moved off. _

"_Darry?"_

_Soda's voice was shaky and as I examined him, searching for any signs of injury, I noticed his eyes were full of tears. _

"_It's okay, little buddy," I soothed, pulling him into a hug. "They're gone. You're safe now." His head moved against my chest, nodding._

"_I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking as he tried not to cry. "I tried to fight them off, but they were too big."_

_I sighed. "I know. It's alright." I paused for a minute, waiting for him to calm down some. "Why didn't you wait for me, Soda?"_

"_I did!" he cried, tears spilling over onto his cheeks despite his efforts to keep them in check. "I waited for a long time! But you didn't come and I thought…" _

_He stopped and I frowned. "You thought what, Soda?"_

_He looked down at his feet and shrugged. "I thought maybe you forgot."_

_I grabbed his chin and forced him to look up. "Sodapop, don't you ever think I'd forget you."_

_He sniffed. "Then why were you so late?"_

"_Practice ran long," I explained, annoyed all over again at Coach for making us run extra laps, but I stiffened as I remembered why I was even later than I should've been. If I hadn't been talking to Danielle, I might've caught up to Soda before he ran into those hoods. He didn't seem to notice the guilt that had started to creep over me, and I pulled him close again, wanting him to stay oblivious to it. I didn't want him thinking a girl was more important than he was. "Soda, I'll always be there to protect you. Don't you ever doubt that. But you've gotta trust me." He nodded into my chest again and I leaned my head on his. I was determined to keep my promise, no matter what._

As Soda lay sleeping against me, I couldn't help remembering my promise to him nearly ten years before. He'd believed me, his child naivety allowing him to trust that his big brother would always protect him. In the end though, I'd failed. I knew I'd been powerless to stop anything that happened to him in that prison camp, but it didn't make the guilt that was gnawing at my insides go away. It didn't stop the images of what had happened from playing in my head and it didn't change the fact that Soda had experienced more pain and anguish than I could even imagine.

Sunlight began to creep across the room and Soda shifted as it hit his face, burying himself further against me. He'd cried himself to sleep hours before. Too afraid of waking him up, I hadn't moved him since. When Ponyboy had come home and seen us both on the living room floor, Soda already asleep, he hadn't said a word. He'd stopped though, and for a minute it had seemed like he might ask what had happened, but instead he'd gone silently to his room. I sighed, dreading the conversation that was inevitably coming. For now, though, my focus was on Sodapop. Pony would have to wait.

A small moan caught my attention and I glanced down to find Soda blinking sleep out of his eyes. He scanned the room for a few seconds, his face scrunched up in confusion, until he seemed to remember how he had gotten there. He stiffened and slowly sat up, keeping his eyes on the floor and chewing his lip nervously.

"Soda?" I kept my voice gentle, but he stayed quiet and refused to look up. I sighed and tried again. "Soda, look at me." Even as a whisper, the words carried the weight of a command and he reluctantly met my eyes. The tear tracks from the night before were still smeared over his face. He'd slept straight through the night, probably for the first time since he'd gotten home, I figured, but exhaustion was still written in every feature. It wasn't the exhaustion I was worried about, though. It was the fear. He was terrified of what I would say, of how I would react to what he'd admitted last night. Suddenly, he was ten years old again, scared that I'd be mad at him for being cornered in an alley.

I carefully took hold of his chin, forcing him to keep his head up. "Soda, I love you. You know that?" He gave a small nod. "And you know that what happened over there wasn't your fault, right?" Despite my grip on his chin, he dropped his eyes down at this question. "Soda," I said sternly. He hesitated, but brought his gaze back up. "Soda, what that guard did _was not_ your fault. You understand me? You told me yourself you tried to fight back. There's nothing you could've done to stop it."

His chin quivered under my hold as his tears once again spilled over. "I didn't the last time," he whispered.

The confession caught me off guard. I had assumed the guard had only attacked him the first night, maybe as some sort of sick initiation or something. It had never occurred to me that it had happened more than once. "How—" I stopped and swallowed back the anger that was rising, threatening to cut off my voice. "How many times?"

He looked down again and I let him this time, too stunned to stop him. "I don't know. I lost track." My breath hitched and I pulled his head against me again. "The last time he came, I just didn't have the strength anymore." He sniffed and I stroked his hair, the only thing I could think of to comfort him. "They'd been starving me for days and I didn't see what the point was, anyway. It never did any good."

"It still wasn't your fault, Soda," I soothed. "Even that last time. Like you said, he would've done it anyway."

He was silent for a minute. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with self loathing. "Last week was my fault."

I didn't try to argue with him. I couldn't. He waited quietly for my response, tracing the scars that covered his wrists. Not sure what to say, I watched him. It was when I realized he was tracing only the fresh wounds, the ones he had made himself, that I decided to ask the question that I'd been struggling to find an answer to. "Why, Soda? Why did you do it?"

More silence followed. Afraid he would shut down again if I made the wrong move, I clenched my jaw and tried to stay patient. After an eternity, he finally shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I told you I didn't mean to. It just happened."

The anger and frustration from the past week peaked and my patience gave out. "Cut the crap, Soda," I snapped. He looked up at me, startled. "Tim Shepherd was here on Saturday. He told me about the gun." Soda suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He started struggling, trying to get out of my grasp, but I wouldn't let him. I was too afraid he'd bolt now that he was being forced to face up to this. Still exhausted, he wasn't any match for me and it wasn't long before he gave up trying to get away. Defeated, he looked back down at his hands. I took a deep breath and softened my voice. "It wasn't a last minute decision, Soda, so tell me—what the hell were you thinking? What happened?"

There was a small sniffle and he wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "I didn't plan it. I really didn't," he said, darting his gaze up to mine for half a second before staring back at his hands. "I was out with Steve that night and everything was going fine. I wasn't having the time of my life or nothing, but it was good to be out. It almost felt normal." He paused and there was another sniffle. "I got tired, though, so I decided to head home early. Steve was gonna go with me, but I made him stay with the guys. He didn't want to," he added, trying to defend his friend. "I kept arguing with him till he agreed. I didn't want to ruin his night. He left me at the bus stop. A couple minutes later, this guy—" he stopped and took a deep breath. "This guy started talking to me. He wanted me to go home with him."

Instantly I felt every muscle in my body tense. If he had laid a single finger on Sodapop, I'd track him down and rip his throat out.

"Nothing happened," Soda said, and I relaxed a fraction. "I took off before he could try anything. I ran to the park, but there was two guys there, too. They didn't even see me. They probably wouldn't have cared if they had, anyway. They were just there, and I was spooked, I guess. I was at Tim's house before I even realized I'd made the decision. If—if he'd given me the gun…" He trailed off and I tried not to picture what would've happened if Tim had given in to Soda's demand. "When I realized Tim wasn't gonna do anything, I went home. I didn't even think about it, I just went right for the knives. It wasn't till I was holding it that I stopped."

He traced over the scars again. "Then what, Pepsi?" I prodded gently.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I got scared. I didn't want to leave you and Pony. But I couldn't stop remembering what had happened. That guy at the bus stop had just made it all seem so real again and Dr. Wilson had wanted me to talk about it, but I didn't want to and he wouldn't take no for an answer. And then when the elevator stopped I felt so trapped and I didn't want to feel that way again but I couldn't get out and then Pony lit the match and all I could smell was the fire and I was so afraid he would show up again and I didn't want to see him but he was there every time I closed my eyes and I didn't want to see him anymore, I didn't want to see any of them anymore but I couldn't stop remembering and I was just so fucking tired!"

He broke down sobbing again and I pulled him close, rubbing circles over his back in a futile attempt to comfort him. I didn't say anything; I didn't have the first clue what to say. I hadn't followed most of what he'd just told me. I ran it over in my mind, but no matter what way I turned things, I couldn't piece together how a fire fit into the attacks. I didn't want to ask him about it now, not when he was so fragile, but I knew I would have to try to get it out of him later. If it was tearing him apart this badly, there wasn't a choice.

A door slammed down the hall and Soda grabbed a fistful of my shirt as we heard the shower start up. He choked on a sob, trying to calm himself down. I kept rubbing his back, hoping it would help him. I knew he didn't want Pony to see him like this. Even I wasn't sure how Pony would react; the sight of Soda so upset might bring him around and make him want to help, but it might make him more angry, thinking Soda was just looking for sympathy or something.

By the time the water was turned off, Soda had managed to calm himself down to the occasional sniffle. Pony came into the living room a few minutes later with his books in hand. He glanced towards us and as Soda looked up, they locked eyes. Pony hesitated like he had the night before; he appeared frozen in place, not able to say anything but not able to leave, either. Soda seemed to take his silence for anger and dropped his gaze back down. With the connection broken, Pony headed for the front door silently. I didn't bother asking him if he was going to have breakfast, or pointing out that he was over an hour early for school.

"Soda?" I asked when we were alone again.

"Yeah?" he answered quietly.

"What do you want me to tell Pony?"

He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes wide with fear. "Do you have to tell him anything? He doesn't need to know, does he?"

I sighed. "Yeah, he does, Soda. He can't understand why you hurt yourself. If he knows, he might be able to deal with it better."

He leaned into me again and buried his head so I could barely hear his next words. "What if it doesn't work? What if he sill hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you, Soda," I said, hoping that maybe he would believe me this time. "He's angry and hurt, but he doesn't hate you, and telling him what happened isn't going to make him start."

It was a long time before Soda spoke again. "Will you tell him for me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't go through it again."

"Yeah, of course, Pepsi." I waited a minute, giving him time to process everything. "What about Steve and Two-Bit?"

He sniffed, trying to hold back more tears. "Do I have to?"

"No," I said, starting to rub his back again. "You don't have to tell them if you don't want to. But I think it's a good idea. Keeping it quiet hasn't done you any good, Pepsi. And they've been there for you a lot. They deserve to know as much as Pony does." I waited, crossing my fingers that my little speech would work. I couldn't betray his confidence, but I hated the idea of keeping this from Steve and Two-Bit. They were going through hell just as much as Pony and I were. They deserved any answers I could give them.

"Okay," Soda finally whispered.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "It's gonna be okay, little buddy," I soothed.

He looked back up at me and his voice cracked on his next words. "You promise?"

"I promise, Pepsi-Cola." I prayed that this time, somehow, I'd be able to keep that promise.

X X X

Hope you liked it—please review! I'm wondering…how much do you want to see of the rest of them finding out what happened? I have some planned and some written, but there's parts I haven't finished yet and I'm trying to find a balance between being repetitive and not doing justice to the characters. Any input would be much appreciated.


	40. Chapter 40

Hi everyone. :) Here's the next chapter. It's nice and long and I'm pretty darn happy with how it turned out, actually. Please let me know what you thought at the end!

X X X

And I tried so hard

Tried to be so strong

But you see the crash

My defense is gone

~~The Goo Goo Dolls—Home

X X X

"Dickens was trying to convey… it wasn't until…but you can…"

I half listened to Mr. Davis' voice drone on. I tried my best to pay attention, but it was useless. English was normally my favourite subject, but I just didn't care today. The image of Sodapop curled up on the living room floor kept floating back to me, no matter how hard I tried to push it away. I wanted so badly to know why he'd been there, why he'd looked so upset, and why Darry had obviously stayed the night with him. I couldn't help but wonder if he had tried something again, and my stomach twisted into a knot at the thought. If that's what had happened, I wasn't sure I wanted to know, cause I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to forgive him then. And if he _had _tried something, and it was because of me, I'd never be able to forgive myself.

"Mr. Curtis!"

"Huh?" I looked around dumbly for a few seconds before my eyes landed on Mr. Davis, who didn't look impressed.

"Mr. Curtis, do you know the answer to the question or not?" He obviously knew I hadn't been paying attention and had no idea what the question had even been, much less what the answer was. A few of the Socs in the class snickered. I did my best to ignore them and shook my head.

"No, sir," I answered.

He gave an impatient sigh before turning to the girl beside me. I made a renewed effort to focus, but I didn't even make it through the girl's answer before my thoughts were back on Sodapop. I wondered if Darry would tell me what had happened if I asked him, or if he'd refuse and say I should ask Soda instead.

When the lunch bell rang, I was the first one out the door. I dumped my books in my locker, not caring much how they landed, grabbed my jacket, and made a beeline for the front doors. Since Two-Bit had graduated, I'd started spending most of my lunches with a couple greasers from our neighborhood, but today I couldn't stand the thought of talking to, or even seeing, anyone. I wasn't sure where I was going to go, but I knew I didn't want anyone following me.

"Ponyboy!"

I froze. I didn't want to deal with this right now. I considered turning the other way and pretending I hadn't heard him, but I knew that was a stupid idea. It would just get me in more trouble later. I took a deep breath and reluctantly headed towards the familiar truck.

"What are you doing here, Darry?" I asked as I approached the driver's side window.

"Can you get in, Pony?" he asked, avoiding my question. I hesitated, but crossed in front of the truck and hopped in. May as well get this over with.

"Why are you here?" I repeated my earlier question.

"Nice to see you too, Pony," Darry muttered and I realized how sullen I'd probably sounded. Part of me felt bad for snapping at Darry; none of this was his fault. For the most part, though, I didn't care. If he was gonna cross my path when I was in a bad mood, he'd have to deal with the consequences.

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of our house. He didn't say a word and I didn't bother to ask again. When he pulled into our driveway, he got out and I followed him silently into the house. I'd already wracked my brains, trying to figure out why the hell he'd dragged me home in the middle of the day, but nothing made sense. Soda was obviously okay, at least physically. I knew if he really had tried something the night before, Darry wouldn't have left him alone for even a second. I didn't think Darry would go through all this trouble just to lecture me again. As I watched him, I started to notice that he looked nervous as hell. He was pacing and he kept running his hands through his hair.

"Darry—"

"Sit down, Pony." It was a command rather than a request. I wasn't in the mood to be ordered around, but something in his voice made me obey without hesitation. This definitely wasn't a lecture. I couldn't remember ever seeing him act like this. Something major was going on, and I started to wish I was anywhere but sitting on our couch waiting to hear whatever terrible news Darry was about to deliver.

"Who's hurt?" I didn't want to ask who had died. I couldn't stand the thought of that actually being what had happened. Soda may've been okay—Darry would make sure of that—but there were other people, other family we could've lost.

"What?" Darry stared at me like I had ten heads until he seemed to realize what I was asking. "No!" he cried. "No, it's nothing like that, Pone."

I studied him carefully, wanting to believe him but not sure if I should. Something had to be wrong for him to be acting this way. On the other hand, he wouldn't tell me everyone was fine if they weren't. It wasn't like he could keep it a secret. "Then what the hell's going on, Dare?" I demanded.

He opened his mouth, met my eyes, and immediately clammed up again. A few more paces around the room, a few more glances in my direction, and finally I couldn't take it anymore. "Spit it out, Darry!" I yelled. He froze in mid-step and stared at me. He hesitated, almost as if he was trying to decide if he should follow through with whatever he was planning to tell me. That's when I knew it had to be about Soda. If something had happened to Steve or Two-Bit, Darry wouldn't think of backtracking. "What did Soda do?" I asked.

Darry scrutinized me for another few seconds before sighing and sitting next to me on the couch. "What is it you think he did?" he asked. I didn't answer. He already knew what I was thinking. "He didn't try anything again, Pony," Darry said quietly, and I felt the knot in my stomach loosen just a little.

"Then what?" I could hear the bitterness in my voice, but I didn't care. I was tired of the games Soda was playing; one minute he was attached to us like his life depended on it, the next he was so distant he may as well have not been there at all. Darry might be willing to keep picking up after Soda's mess, but I just couldn't anymore.

"He told me what happened."

Whatever reaction Darry had been expecting from me, he didn't get it. My mind seemed to seize up, stalled on that one sentence.

Sodapop had told Darry what had happened.

He'd actually told him.

"Pony?"

I gradually became aware of Darry calling my name and I blinked, bringing the room back into focus. For a second, there was relief. If Soda had told Darry, maybe he was going to be okay. But then the months of frustration came rushing back, all the times we'd tried to talk to him and he'd shut us out, and suddenly I didn't care what Soda was feeling.

"What the fuck happened over there?" I yelled, standing up and starting my own pacing. I didn't care that Darry was glaring at me. I didn't care that he hated when I swore like that or that he was probably just as frustrated as I was. I didn't care about much of anything at this point. "What was so bad that he couldn't tell us? What made him think he could put us through this kind of hell?"

Darry groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sit down, Pony."

"No, just tell me now!"

I expected him to yell, maybe even to stand up and force me back onto the couch, but he didn't move. "Sit down, Pony," he repeated quietly.

Maybe it was the way he said each word as if it was it's own sentence, or maybe it was because he wouldn't even look at me when he said it, but something made me realize that Darry was barely holding it together at this point. The last thing I wanted right now was to see Darry fall apart. None of us stood a chance if that happened.

I perched on the edge of the couch and watched him. He looked older than he had a week ago. "What happened?" I asked again, more calmly this time.

It was a minute before Darry said anything. "It wasn't Steve's fault."

I bit my lip as I realized what he meant. "But he was supposed to stay with Soda," I argued, trying to keep my voice level for Darry's sake. Steve had promised to take care of Soda that night. Soda wouldn't have had the chance to do anything if Steve had been there.

Darry sighed and finally looked up at me again. "Soda made him go. Soda was tired and wanted to go home. Steve was going to go with him, but Soda wouldn't let him. I think we both know how stubborn he can be." Darry gave a wry grin and I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about how I'd been treating Steve. I knew what Soda was like; he probably hadn't given Steve much choice in the matter. I wasn't even sure I wouldn't have done the same thing in his position.

"Steve left him at the bus stop. All Soda had to do was get on and it would've taken him almost right home."

"It _would've_ taken him here?" I asked, picking up on the tense Darry had used. "Why didn't he get on?"

"A guy came up to him while he was waiting for the bus to show up. The guy started hitting on him. Soda panicked and bolted."

I frowned. I'd heard of guys trying to get with other guys, and I guess if it was gonna happen to anyone, it would probably be Soda. I could see it making him uncomfortable, but why had it been such a big deal? "So, a guy flirts with him and his reaction is to try to kill himself?" I asked, trying to get things straight. "Dare, I know he hasn't been himself since he got back, but it seems like a bit of an overreaction."

Darry hesitated and I felt myself getting impatient again. None of this was adding up and I was sick and tired of being left in the dark.

And then it clicked.

"Oh my God," I whispered. It couldn't be true; it didn't make sense. That sort of stuff didn't happen to guys. But everything fit and as much as I wanted there to be some sort of other explanation, I couldn't come up with one. "He was raped?" I asked in disbelief.

Darry nodded. "Yeah." I tried to digest what he'd told me, but I couldn't. Darry waited silently, giving me time, before eventually nudging me. "Pony? You okay?"

"But he's a guy!" I cried, voicing the one grain of hope I kept clinging to, no matter how much the logical part of my brain kept telling me it was pointless.

"I know. That's probably why none of us thought of it," Darry agreed quietly. "But it did happen. More than once."

My head shot up. "What do you mean, 'more than once?'"

"Soda said it happened a lot," he sighed. "He doesn't remember how many times."

I leaned my head on the back of the couch, my mind reeling from what Darry had just told me. I couldn't even begin to imagine what Soda had gone through much less how he'd managed to keep it quiet this whole time. "Why didn't he tell us?"

Darry shrugged. "I don't know, kiddo. That's something you're gonna have to ask him."

The thought made my stomach plummet to my feet. Darry was right. I was going to have to talk to Soda, but it made me want to run as far and as fast as I could in the other direction. I'd barely spoken more than a few sentences to him in the past week, and that short conversation had ended with me hitting him. No matter how furious I still was with him, I knew I hadn't been fair, especially now that I knew what had happened.

"Where is he now?" I asked quietly.

"At work. You want me to drive you there?"

I shook my head. "No. I should go back to school."

"Pony…" Darry growled, the warning clear in his voice.

I glared at him and he stopped talking. "I know, Darry," I snapped. "I'll talk to him. But not right now. I need some time."

Darry stared at me for another minute, his jaw clenched, before relaxing. "Fine. I'll write you a note and drive you back to school."

I glanced at the clock and noticed I was already twenty minutes late for my first afternoon class. "Sure, thanks," I muttered and headed out to the truck.

The ride back to school was silent. My mind kept replaying the earlier conversation over and over, trying to make sense of everything. Soda and I had always been able to talk. Why hadn't he told me any of this before? Why had he waited until the secret nearly killed him before he confided in anyone?

"Pony?"

Darry's voice jolted me out of my thoughts and I looked up to find the school looming in front of us. I sighed and hopped out of the truck. "Thanks for the ride."

"Pony." I glanced at Darry to find him eying me critically. "Don't wait too long to talk to him."

I froze with my hand still on the truck door. Darry didn't say anything else and turned away from me towards the steering wheel. Seeing him hunched over and silent, I couldn't help but notice again how much older than twenty-two he looked. Gray hairs were starting to come in around his temple and I swallowed back a wave of guilt as I wondered how many of those I had caused.

"I won't," I promised as I closed the door.

Once inside the school, I looked down at the note Darry had given me. It had a date, but no time on it—just a request to let me in to class late. I shrugged as I figured I'd already missed most of the period, so what was a few more minutes? I headed down the hallway, being careful to avoid the area where my class was, and ducked out one of the back doors. Leaning against the wall, I pulled out a pack of smokes and lit up. I let out a sigh as the first bit of nicotine hit my system; I hadn't realized how badly I'd needed one.

"Skipping class? Careful—you'll give greasers a bad name."

I instantly tensed and drew myself up to my full height, ready for a fight, but relaxed as I saw David strolling towards me, pulling out his own pack of cigarettes. He grinned as he watched my reaction and I glared back at him. "Look who's talking," I sniped. "If you're not careful, people might start to think Socs aren't model citizens.

He flipped me off, but let the comment drop. "So, why're you out here?" he asked as he lit up.

I shrugged and leaned against the wall again. "Biology just didn't sound as fascinating as it normally does."

"And here I thought biology was everyone's favorite subject."

I laughed and we lapsed into a comfortable silence. We hadn't spoken since the night at the bar, and I knew he'd never admit that there was any sort of even remote friendship between us, but there was no doubt that the tension was gone.

I finished my smoke and pulled out another, not ready to let go of the relaxed warmth it sent through me. After the first drag, I glanced sideways at David. He was staring off into space and I realized he really didn't care whether or not I told him why I was outside. "I found out why he did it," I said, and I caught David's surprised expression before I looked away again.

"Your brother?" he asked.

"Yeah." I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my emotions in check. "What happened over there—it was worse than I thought. It was worse than any of us thought. That night, something brought him back there and he couldn't deal with it."

"So he decided to end it."

I nodded and David was quiet for a minute.

"You wanna get outta here?" he asked.

I glanced towards the door of the school and sighed. I sure as hell didn't want to sit through another two hours of class. I knew I wouldn't learn anything, anyway, not today. But Darry's note was still shoved in my pocket, and I couldn't stop remembering how old and worn out he had looked in the truck.

"Maybe next time," I answered and David shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he said, throwing his smoke onto the ground and heading off. I watched him wander through the parking lot and towards the bus stop before gritting my teeth and forcing myself to head back into the school.

X X X

"You're kidding, right?"

I was sitting in Steve's living room, him and Two-Bit on the opposite couch, both staring at me in disbelief. I'd just told them everything Soda had divulged the night before. They hadn't guessed it like Pony had; I'd had to actually spell it out for them. It was the first time I'd used the word rape since Soda had told me about it and I could still taste the bitterness of it in my mouth.

"You think I'd joke about something like this?" I glared at Two-Bit.

He blanched and quickly backpedaled. "No, of course, Darry. It's just…I mean, are you sure?"

I groaned and buried my face in my hands for a minute before looking back up at him. "Yeah, I'm sure. He told me the whole story and there's no way he's making it up. You should've seen how upset he was." I tried not to remember Soda the night before, huddled against me and crying for hours.

Steve suddenly got up and started pacing. Two-Bit threw me a worried glance. Steve hadn't said a word since I'd started talking and we both knew silence wasn't a good sign with him. He made a few rounds of the room and then, before either of us could blink, much less try to stop him, he'd punched a hole through the wall.

"Goddamn it!" he cried, and I wondered if he was talking about his hand or Soda. "How did we not see it?" he asked, turning to us, fury blazing in his eyes.

"Soda didn't exactly give us much to go on, Steve," Two-Bit tried, but Steve just started pacing again, ignoring his now split knuckles.

"C'mon, Two-Bit," he argued stubbornly. "The signs were all there. He practically bit my head off when I tried to set him up with girls. He was withdrawn, jumpy; he'd hardly let anyone touch him. Remember that first day in the hospital? We should've figured it out."

"Steve, would you really have believed it even if one of us had thought of it?" He glared at me for a minute, but then he groaned and flopped down on the couch.

"Probably not," he sighed.

"Then stop beating yourself up. Literally," I added, eying his bloody hand. He smirked and went to grab a rag and ice pack.

"So now what?" Two-Bit asked once Steve had sat back down.

"Now we do whatever we can to help him through this."

"Isn't that what we've already been doing?" Steve looked miserable and I couldn't say I blamed him. He was the one who'd been with Soda right after he was rescued and stayed with him night and day in the army hospital. Knowing him, he was probably reliving every minute of those days looking for anything he might've missed that would've helped us figure this all out sooner.

"I'm hoping Soda won't be so stubborn now that we know what happened. I got the name of a different psychologist."

"Cause that went so well last time," Steve retorted. I glared at him, not in the mood for his sarcasm. He caught my eye and sighed. "Sorry, Darry. But seriously, what if Soda refuses to go again?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But it's all I've got."

X X X

I stood in front of the small apartment building, my arms hugged tightly around myself and my stomach twisted in knots, trying to summon the courage to go inside. Steve might not even be home. After all, it was Friday night and he'd actually managed to recover some semblance of a normal social life. I wasn't sure if he'd let me in even if he was home. I'd screwed up royally yesterday and I couldn't blame him if he didn't want to talk to me.

I wondered if Darry had told him yet, if he'd told anyone. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying not to picture the expression on their faces once they knew. It shouldn't have happened, I shouldn't have let it, and I'd never wanted anyone to find out.

Darry had been okay about it, though, and I couldn't deny how much of a relief that was. And on some level, I knew he was right and that I couldn't have stopped it. I took a deep breath and tried to convince myself that it would be okay. It was too late to go back now, anyway, so there wasn't any point in worrying about it. That's what Dad had always said.

"You coming in or were you planning on just standing there all night?"

My eyes snapped open to find Steve standing in the doorway of the building, watching me.

"You're home," I said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah. Darry mentioned you'd be coming by."

Darry had been here. Steve must know, then. Everyone else, too, probably. I hugged myself tighter and stared at my feet.

"Would you get in here already? I'm freezing."

I realized Steve didn't have a jacket on and was starting to shiver. I forced myself to walk up the pathway to the door. He turned without a word and I followed him silently into his apartment.

"Hi, Soda," Evie greeted softly when she saw me.

"Hey," I mumbled, not meeting her eyes. She quietly got her jacket, squeezed Steve's shoulder, and headed out the front door. When she'd left, I turned to Steve. "Does she know, too?"

He nodded and I saw a trace of anxiety cross his features. "She's been pretty worried about you. I'm not gonna tell anyone else," he added quickly. "Just Evie." I didn't say anything and Steve shifted nervously. "Look, Soda—"

"I'm sorry, Steve," I blurted, cutting him off. I didn't want to hear some spiel about how I was the victim. Maybe I was, but that didn't make me any less of a jackass the day before.

"It's okay," he said, sitting down heavily on the couch. "I get it, Soda. We pushed you too hard. It was stupid of us to think you wouldn't figure out we were watching you."

"But I shouldn't have yelled at you," I argued, joining him on the couch. "You were just doing what Darry wanted."

He looked down at his hands, hesitating for a second. "Actually, it was my idea."

The admission caught me off guard. Steve was the one who'd decided to play watchdog?

"I was worried, Soda," he said sharply, interrupting my thoughts, and I looked up to find genuine fear in his eyes. "I was scared as hell that I was going to lose you. We all were."

"But I told you it was a mistake and I wasn't gonna do it again." It was the same tired argument I'd already used too many times, but it was the only card I had.

"Tell me you wouldn't have done exactly the same thing if it had been me," he demanded. I bit my lip as I realized he was right.

"I'm sorry," I repeated quietly.

"I know," Steve sighed. "How'd you convince Superman to let you come here by yourself, anyway?"

"It wasn't easy," I confessed and I saw him smile slightly. "I told him that if I was gonna do something, I would've done it when I was out last night. It took a while, but I guess he finally realized he'd have to stop hovering eventually."

"And Pony?" He didn't need to clarify the question. I shrugged. I figured if Steve knew, Pony probably did, too, unless he'd managed to avoid Darry. I hadn't heard anything from him, though, and I wasn't sure I expected to.

"He'll come around, Soda." Despite the reassurance, Steve didn't look convinced and I knew he was only saying it for my benefit. He'd made his opinion on Pony's behaviour crystal clear. Suddenly, Steve's brow furrowed. "Do you smell that?" he asked, looking around.

I sniffed the air, then froze as I realized what he was smelling. I'd been so distracted I hadn't noticed it till he'd said something, but smoke was slowly filling the apartment.

"Shit! I forgot Evie was making tea!"

I barely registered his words as he jumped off the couch and ran into the kitchen where a pot on the stove was steadily spewing smoke. The acrid stench of burning flesh assaulted my senses and I closed my eyes, trying to convince myself that it was just a pot that had boiled dry, nothing more. The sound of the fire extinguisher was drowned out by screaming and my breath hitched. I clapped my hands over my ears, but the anguished cries just got louder and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop them. The guards wouldn't let me, and he was writhing on the floor, burning to death right in front of me.

"Soda? Sodapop!"

A rotting hand clamped down on my shoulder and my stomach gave out. I fell back and scrambled across the room, reaching the toilet just in time to throw up my lunch. Sweat dripped off my forehead, splashing on my hands, which held the sides of the porcelain bowl in a death grip.

"Soda?" The voice was shaky, uncertain.

I tried to take in a deep breath, but even with the fire put out, smoke still hung in the air and I vomited again. When I was sure my stomach was empty, I forcibly let go of the toilet and leaned back against the wall. The screams still resonated in my ears, making Steve's worried voice seem miles away instead of right beside me.

"Can we go outside?" I breathed. My vision was blurry, but I made out Steve's nod as he helped me up. Leaning on him, I slowly managed to cross the room and make it outside. He sat me down on a bench and I breathed in the clean, crisp air. As my vision cleared, I noticed he'd grabbed both our jackets on the way and I gratefully took mine.

"Soda, what the hell was that?" he asked, the concern clear in his voice.

Staring at the ground, I shrugged. "I guess the smoke didn't agree with my stomach or something," I mumbled. I didn't want to admit what had really happened, I didn't think I could handle any more confessions at the moment. No matter what Steve or Darry or anyone else tried to tell me, this _was_ my fault. That kid was dead because of me.

Steve let out an irritated sigh and I knew he didn't believe me. I couldn't blame him; it hadn't been much of a lie. "Soda, your kid brother is a fucking chimney and you're gonna tell me that a bit of smoke didn't agree with you? C'mon, give me more credit than that."

"I don't wanna talk about it," I whispered. Steve wasn't planning on giving me the choice, though.

"Sodapop, what happened over there? Darry said you were rambling on about Pony lighting a match in the hospital elevator, and now you have a full blown panic attack when I boil a pot dry? And don't tell me you don't want to talk about it," he snapped.

I bit my lip as the tears stung my eyes. "I tried to stop them," I said quietly. "They wanted to know why I'd crossed the river. I never figured out what the big deal was about that. They wouldn't tell me. I tried to come up with some sort of story, but they didn't believe anything I said. When they brought him in, I didn't know what was going on at first."

I trailed off for a minute, trying to block the images from playing in my mind again, and I felt Steve lean forward on the bench. "They brought who in, Soda?"

"He was just a kid. I don't even know if he was eighteen or if he'd lied about his age and somehow gotten over there anyway. But he was so scared. I tried to tell them what they wanted, but I didn't know what that was. When they brought in the gasoline, he figured it out almost as fast as I did. He begged me to help him." I stopped and choked back a sob. "I tried. I really did."

"God, Soda," Steve mumbled beside me. "You should've told someone." A tentative hand reached out to my shoulder and I slumped over at the touch, burying my face in my hands.

"It's my fault he's dead, Steve," I sobbed.

"Fuck, Soda. No way in hell it's your fault."

"Yes it is!" I yelled, sitting up and glaring at him. He drew his hand back instantly and I dropped my gaze down to my hands again. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

It wasn't, but I didn't argue. After a minute, I spoke up timidly. "Steve?"

"Yeah, Soda?" he asked and I glanced up to find him watching me cautiously.

"I—I've been seeing him. Am I crazy?"

His eyes widened in surprise and he opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again. "Do you think you're crazy?"

I shrugged. "Sometimes. It's not like I see him all the time. But when I do, it's so vivid. I don't think that's normal."

Steve seemed to hesitate, but finally he sighed. "I don't know if you're crazy, Soda. But I do think you need to talk to someone about all this."

"I'm not going back to Wilson," I said sharply.

He shook his head quickly. "No, and I think Darry agrees with you. He found another doctor. Some guy he works with said this guy is supposed to be great."

I was silent. I didn't like the idea of going to a doctor again, not after Wilson.

"Just think about it," Steve said. I nodded and tried to smile.

"I will. I promise."

He looked relieved and I had a feeling it was cause even though I hadn't accepted the suggestion, I hadn't blown up at it, either.

"Stay here," he said, getting up. "I'll grab my keys and drive you home."

"It's okay—"I started, but he glared at me and I stopped.

"Soda, you're not walking home after nearly passing out. Now shut up and wait here. I'll be right back."

I gave him a genuine smile this time and nodded. While I waited, I turned the conversation over in my mind. I sighed and rubbed my eyes, suddenly exhausted. I hadn't planned to ever tell anyone about the fire. I'd been so afraid everyone would hate me, but Steve seemed insistent that it wasn't my fault. I wasn't sure I believed him, but it felt good either way that at least he didn't hate me. I wondered if he was right. Maybe it would be a good idea to see someone. I didn't think it could go worse than last time.

X X X

Reviews are gold.


	41. Chapter 41

Thank you everyone for your continued support and patience. It means so much.

I just spent the last 2 hours fighting with my computer and reformatting it so I could post this. How is it possible for one person to have such awful luck with computers? As such, reviews would really make my day.

X X X

Here I am

Waiting for one last chance

Cause this time we got nothing left to lose

And everything is ruined

But the end is where we begin

~~Our Lady Peace—The End is Where We Begin

X X X

"Morning, Soda."

I glanced up from the stove to find Darry standing in the kitchen doorway, watching me. I'd barely spoken to him when Steve had brought me home the night before. After a hot shower, I'd gone right to my room and, not wanting to deal with anyone, pretended to sleep. "Morning," I returned.

"You're up early," he commented, heading to the fridge and pulling out a fresh chocolate cake.

I shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"Nightmares again?" I hesitated, but then nodded. There wasn't any point in denying it. "Were they about the fire?"

Not expecting the question, I froze. The bacon sizzled in the pan in front of me and I forced my attention on it, methodically flipping it over. "Steve told you."

Behind me, I felt Darry shifting. "Yeah, he did. He thought it was better if I knew." His voice was cautious, and I knew he was worried I'd go off on him, or Steve, or both.

"Is this enough bacon for you?" I asked, avoiding the topic at hand. I wasn't sure how I felt about Steve telling Darry. I hadn't asked him to keep it a secret, after all.

"Soda—"

"Don't," I said sharply, and he stopped.

"Don't what?"

I kept my gaze focused on the stove, refusing to turn around. "Don't say it's not my fault."

"Why not?" he asked, coming to stand beside me.

"Because," I snapped, glaring up at him, "it's bullshit. You and Steve weren't there. You don't know what happened, so don't go telling me it's all okay when it's not."

"You tried to stop them." Darry's voice was gentle, almost coddling, and I felt my anger mounting.

"Well, I should've tried harder!" I screamed. Darry flinched, but held his ground. "He's dead because of me. He was counting on me to help him, and I failed."

"You can't think that way," he tried, but I cut him off again.

"Why not? It's the truth." I threw the food onto the plates haphazardly, barely noticing and not at all caring what landed where. Darry was still watching me, and I knew I probably looked a little bit psychotic. I stopped and gripped the counter, taking in deep breaths. It wasn't much, but it helped enough for me to lower my voice. "That kid was burned alive because I wasn't smart enough to come up with the right story. He has a family somewhere, waiting and hoping for news that he's alive, just like you and Pony were, only they're never gonna get that, and it's because of me."

Darry sighed and wrapped his arms around me. I struggled, trying to pull away, but he didn't budge. "It's not your fault, Pepsi," he whispered, stroking my hair. I wanted so badly to believe him, to just give in and accept whatever absolution he was able to offer, but I couldn't. He hadn't been there. He hadn't heard the screams, the cries for help. I let him hold me anyway. It was useless to fight him, and I didn't really want to; maybe if he said it enough times, I could pretend it was true.

After a few minutes, Darry pulled back and put a finger under my chin, tilting it up. I kept my eyes lowered and I felt him stifle another sigh. "Can we just eat breakfast?" I asked quietly. I suddenly felt completely drained and I fell onto the closest kitchen chair when he let me go.

"You gonna be okay to go into work today?" Darry asked, bringing the plates to the table.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." The words didn't sound as convincing as I'd wanted them to, but Darry seemed to accept them, or maybe he just didn't want to argue. I picked at the food in front of me, listening to the silence shrouding the house. "Does Pony know?" I asked finally.

"About the fire?" I nodded and Darry shook his head.

I hesitated, not sure I wanted the next answer. "Does—does he know about…" I stopped and swallowed hard, not able to finish the sentence. I didn't think I'd ever be able to say the words.

"Yeah, he knows," Darry said quietly. I stared at my plate, even less hungry than I'd been before. "He didn't get home till late last night. You were already in bed."

I nodded, accepting Darry's excuse even though I was sure he knew I'd been faking sleep.

"Steve said he'd pick you up for work this morning. He's not trying to watch you or anything," he added uncertainly. "He just figured you guys start at the same time anyway…" Darry trailed off and I bit my lip. I felt bad for watching him scramble for a conversation starter and letting him falter. I'd always been known for keeping a conversation going and I found myself wishing I could still be that person.

"He said you'd found another doctor." The statement was out before I could stop it. Maybe I hadn't wanted to stop it; I wasn't sure anymore. I'd lain awake for a long time this morning, mulling the idea over. I'd woken up at three from another nightmare, and with nothing but time on my hands, the thought had crept in and taken hold. Anything was better than this continued non-existence.

I didn't look up, but even from across the table I could feel Darry tense. "Yeah, I did. His name is Dr. Carson. He doesn't work for the hospital."

I was glad to hear that. I didn't want to go anywhere near the hospital and I especially didn't want to run into Dr. Wilson. "Have you talked to him?"

There was a pause, then, "No. Should I?"

For lack of anything better to distract myself with, I picked my fork back up and started stirring the food around the plate. "How did you hear about him?"

"My boss told me," Darry said. "He said his sister went to him. She really liked him."

"What happened to her?" I asked.

"She miscarried."

I remembered how upset I'd been when Sandy had left with the baby. Losing Sandy had been horrible, but losing the baby had been almost as bad. Even if it wasn't mine, the chance to be a father had been snatched away without any say on my part, and it had torn my heart to pieces. Losing a kid wasn't something small.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Darry repeated. The disbelief was unmistakable. I nodded.

"Yeah. Okay."

I glanced up to find Darry staring at me, his mouth slightly open in shock. He quickly closed it again and I looked back down. "Alright. I'll make an appointment."

A loud bang at the front of the house startled both of us and saved me from saying anything else. We both looked up to find Steve coming into the kitchen. "Sorry," he apologized, looking more at Darry than at me, "did I interrupt?"

"No, it's fine," I said, getting up and dumping the rest of my breakfast into the garbage. "I'll go get dressed."

Down the hall, I changed quickly. I was sure Steve and Darry would be talking about me and even though I didn't have much to hide at this point, the thought still bothered me. On my way back to the kitchen I paused, staring at Pony's closed door. Carefully, I took a step towards it and raised a hand to knock, but pulled back almost immediately. Maybe it was better if I didn't know what he was thinking. For now, I could still pretend.

X X X

"Soda, would ya hand me that wrench?" Steve's voice floated out from under the car he was working on. I placed the tool into his outstretched hand and stepped back, taking a look at the parking lot outside of the garage. It was full of cars needing to be fixed. Steve had been grumbling all morning that he didn't have a hope in hell of getting out on time today, so I was doing what I could to speed things along. Unfortunately, Saturdays usually brought a steady stream of customers, so I didn't have a lot of time to spare. On cue, the chime in the store sounded and I sighed.

"Be right back, Steve," I said. His reply was muffled and I had a feeling I didn't really want to know what it was.

"Good, someone does work here," a middle aged woman snapped as I stepped into the store. She was drumming her fingers impatiently on the counter, despite the fact it had only been about twenty seconds since the bell on the door had rung.

"Sorry, Ma'm," I apologized, trying my best to plaster a smile on my face. "I was just in the garage. What can I do for you today?"

"My car is making a funny noise."

I tried not to roll my eyes. "What kind of noise is it making?"

"It's a loud screech. You'll hear it as soon as you turn the engine on. When can you have it done by?"

I glanced into the garage as a loud clang sounded, followed by a muttered curse. "Not for a couple days," I answered, turning back to her. "We're pretty backed up at the moment."

"A couple days?" She gave a huff, then took a pen and paper out of her purse. "What are the numbers of the other service stations in the area?"

"Umm, I don't have the phone numbers on hand," I said uncertainly, a little taken aback.

"Well, don't you have a phone book?" she snapped.

"There's a pay phone out front. You can use that phone book," Steve spoke up from the doorway. She glared at him, then whirled around and headed for the door, muttering something about insolent youth. Steve gave her retreating back the finger as he grabbed a Pepsi. "Insolent youth my ass," he muttered. "She's the one who needs a lesson in manners."

I nodded in agreement. "No kidding. How's the Ford coming?"

He shrugged and took a long swig of his soda. "It's getting there. Still ain't gonna be done any time soon, though."

I gave him a sympathetic smile. "At least you drove away the next customer."

He smirked. "Yeah, that's something, I guess." His gaze wandered over to the window where the lady was still leafing through the ratty phone book and his smile disappeared. I followed his gaze and my stomach instantly plummeted to my feet when I saw what he was looking at. "Well, I'll be damned," Steve muttered under his breath.

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry as I watched Ponyboy slowly cross the parking lot. His hands were shoved deep into his coat pockets and he was staring intently at the ground in front of him as he walked, as if he was afraid he might step on something. He paused at the door for a few seconds, then grabbed the handle and pulled, causing the chime to ring again. He didn't look up until the door had closed behind him, but when he did, his eyes met mine right away.

"Hi." It was only a word, and it was barely audible, but it caused relief to wash through me so intensely I nearly felt dizzy.

"Hi," I returned quietly.

"Do—do you have a minute?" Pony asked, shifting nervously.

I glanced at Steve, who nodded. "Go," he said simply, coming around the counter and taking my place.

I headed down the back hall, Pony trailing behind me, and grabbed my coat before going out the back door. We crossed the short space to the break area in silence and both lit up cigarettes as we settled onto the overturned milk crates. I breathed in the smoke wordlessly, at a complete loss for what to say. I'd apologized already and it hadn't gotten me anywhere and I didn't want to do anything to screw up the chance he seemed to be giving me now.

"Why did you do it?" Pony finally asked, breaking the silence.

The question was vague, but he didn't have to elaborate. I stared at my feet. "I dunno, Pone. I guess I just snapped." I looked up at him and sighed as I saw the disappointment written clearly across his face. "I wish I had a better answer for you."

"But why didn't you tell one of us what was going on?" he persisted. "We tried to ask you."

I bit my lip as I was reminded again of how much I had hurt Pony, how much I'd hurt everyone. "I know. Pony, what happened—what I did—it wasn't your fault." I met his eyes, trying to make sure he knew I was telling the truth. "You guys did as much as you could. I just couldn't deal with it anymore, and I didn't want to talk cause I didn't want you to know."

"But _why_ didn't you want us to know? We could've helped."

"How? What could you have done to make it any better, Ponyboy?" I asked sharply. He shrank back a bit and I sighed. "I'm sorry, Pony. I didn't mean to snap."

He nodded, but he didn't meet my eyes. Instead, he started to silently play with a hole forming in his jeans, apparently intent on making it bigger. I rubbed my eyes, mentally kicking myself for lashing out, especially now. "I'm sorry, Pone," I repeated, desperate for him to forgive me. "I really am. Maybe I should've told you sooner, but I couldn't. I was barely able to tell Darry when I did. I wasn't trying to hurt you. I never wanted that."

Pony sighed and kept playing with the hole in his jeans. It was a while before he spoke again. When he did, I had to lean closer just to hear him. "When we thought you'd been killed, I never thought anything could hurt so much. Even when Mom and Dad died, it wasn't as bad. But when Darry and I came home and found you…it was so much worse. I was so angry at you, that you could put us through that on purpose."

"I know," I whispered. "I'm so sorry, Pony. I never wanted any of this to happen."

He nodded, keeping his attention fixed on the hole. "I know. But I know why you did it, now."

"It doesn't make it okay."

"No, it doesn't. But it helps." He finally looked up again and for the first time in over a week, his expression wasn't marred by anger or disappointment. There was still sadness, though, and guilt stabbed through me again knowing it was my fault. The poor kid had known enough pain and it wasn't fair of me to cause more.

"Darry's making an appointment with a new doctor," I offered quietly. Pony's gaze turned hopeful and I saw a ghost of a smile tug at his mouth.

"Are you gonna go?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "But—" I hesitated and looked down at my feet.

"But what, Soda?" he asked anxiously, and I knew he was afraid I would back out.

"I'm scared, Pone."

"Why? Doctors are there to help you."

"I guess so," I agreed reluctantly. "But it's hard, thinking about all this. And Dr. Wilson just wanted me to talk about it like it was no big deal. What if this guy's the same?"

Pony tossed away his cigarette butt and immediately lit up another. "I dunno," he said, shrugging. "It can't hurt to try, though, right? You'll never know what he's like if you don't go see him, and maybe he'll be okay."

I wasn't completely convinced, but I'd already agreed to go, and I knew I had to. I was terrified I would lose control again and I was willing to try nearly anything to make sure that didn't happen.

"Soda?"

"Yeah, Pony?"

"I'm sorry I hit you."

I looked up to find him watching me nervously and I tried to give him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Pony. I deserved it."

"No." His voice was firm and I felt my lame attempt at a smile falter.

"What?"

"No, Soda," he repeated resolutely. "You deserved a lot of things, but not that. You didn't deserve me punching you."

Before I could stop it, my eyes filled with tears and I quickly blinked them away. Leaning over, I wrapped my arms around my brother and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Pony," I whispered.

I couldn't make out his reply, but his fingers curled around my jacket, drawing me closer. That was all I needed.

X X X

"Do I have to?"

"Yeah, Soda, you do," Darry said. "I told you, they won't let me. I'm not your guardian anymore."

"And I can't do it over the phone?" I whined, even though I'd asked the question earlier and already knew the answer.

Darry sighed and shook his head. "No, but it won't take long. We'll be out in a few minutes."

I eyed the massive brick building in front of us doubtfully. Nothing ever took 'only a few minutes' in a hospital, least of all paperwork. I didn't understand why a signature was so important. Couldn't I just give verbal permission for them to release my file to Dr. Carson?

"Soda, Dr. Carson can't help you if he doesn't have your records, and he can't get your records if you don't go in and sign the forms." Darry waited for me to move, but I stayed put. "You can't avoid the hospital forever," he reasoned. "I'll be with you the whole time. I promise, no one's going to make you stay here."

With my eyes still fixed on the building, I searched for his hand, feeling a bit better when he squeezed back tightly. "Alright," I finally agreed. "Let's get this over with."

I followed Darry through the front doors, letting him lead me to the reception desk. He told the lady sitting there what we needed and she handed him the necessary forms. I was thankful that at least I didn't have to go directly to the psych ward for them. I was determined to never set foot near that place again.

"See, that wasn't so bad," Darry said once I'd finished the paperwork and handed it back over to the receptionist.

"Yeah, I guess." He smiled at me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder as we headed back to the truck.

"You wanna get some burgers on the way home?" he asked. "Pony's working, so it's just us."

"Sure, sounds good," I agreed, hopping into the truck. When Darry had taken his place behind the wheel, I spoke up. "He came to see me today."

Darry turned to me and even from across the cab of the truck I could tell his jaw was clenched. "What did he say?"

"He apologized for hitting me," I said softly, looking down at my hands. It seemed like the most important part of the conversation. Darry relaxed and let out a relieved sigh.

"Good. I'm glad he went."

I smiled and settled back in my seat. It felt nice knowing everyone was on speaking terms again. Even Steve had seemed more easygoing with Pony when he'd left the DX. As Darry drove to a nearby diner, the conversation stayed light. It was a welcome change to the arguments and silence that had seemed constant lately, and neither one of us ventured near a topic that might darken the mood.

By the time we got home, I was exhausted. Darry didn't question me when I disappeared into my room, even though it was barely nine o'clock. I was sure I would have more nightmares, just like every night, but that didn't change the fact that I could hardly keep my eyes open; it didn't take more than a minute after lying down before I was asleep.

It wasn't a nightmare that woke me up, though. A soft scraping noise a few feet away from the bed jolted me awake sometime in the night. In the dim light from the hall I could make out a shadowy figure in the doorway and I felt my stomach turn. I didn't want to see that kid again, I couldn't deal with his corpse taunting me.

"Soda? Are you awake?"

I blinked at the unexpected, familiar voice. "Pony?" I fumbled beside me for a minute, finally finding the switch for the lamp that sat on my nightstand. Ponyboy stood in the doorway, his arms wrapped around himself and a guilty look on his face.

"I woke you up," he stated quietly as I sat up and rubbed my eyes, struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness. "Sorry. I'll go." He turned and was nearly gone before I recovered enough to stop him.

"Wait." My voice caught and the word barely came out, but he paused in the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Did—did you need something?" I asked. I wasn't sure what could've possessed him to talk to me in the middle of the night considering he'd barely spoken to me all week, at least until this afternoon. Whatever it was, I didn't care.

Pony shifted. His eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at me. Finally, he answered the question. "I was wondering if maybe I could sleep in here tonight." He still avoided my eyes, choosing now to stare at the floor. I didn't say anything. I was too surprised by his statement to even react. "Never mind," he mumbled, turning to leave again.

"Pony, wait!" I cried. He looked back and, wordlessly, I pulled the covers on his side of the bed back. He didn't hesitate.

As he was settling in, a breeze drifted in from the window and I shivered. I pulled the blankets closer around myself and debated getting up to close it, but it seemed like too much effort.

"You cold, Soda?" Pony asked, and I nodded. "It's a pretty warm night out. You sick?"

In the glow from the streetlight I could see him study me, searching for signs of illness.

"No, I'm not sick," I said softly. I still didn't want to talk about anything, but now that everyone knew what had happened, it didn't seem as bad anymore. The little things I'd left out were easy compared to what I'd told Darry and Steve. "I just like being warm. I was cold a lot—over there."

His brow furrowed. "I thought Vietnam was hot?"

"It is for the most part. But in the winter the nights get colder, and there wasn't a lot of sun to heat…" I stumbled, suddenly freezing up. Everything I'd confessed had been to Darry and Steve and it felt different to be admitting things to Pony.

"Your cell?" he offered quietly.

I gave him a small, thankful smile. "Yeah. The sun that came in wasn't very strong so it didn't do much, and the ground was damp. They only gave me one blanket, and it was real thin." I stopped, not wanting to relive more of the nightmare.

Pony offered me a sympathetic smile and tentatively reached out, laying a hand gently on my arm. His hand was warm and I nestled my head into the pillow, allowing myself to relax. Pony seemed to take some encouragement from this and, moving a bit closer, he draped his arm across me. It felt safe and I let my eyes drift closed. "I used to do that when you were cold," I mumbled, already falling asleep.

"I missed you Soda," I heard Pony whisper before I nodded off completely.

X X X

Please review…


	42. Chapter 42

I will not bow, I will not break

I will shove the world away

I will not fall, I will not fade

I will take your breath away

~~Breaking Benjamin—I Will Not Bow

X X X

"I'm sure it won't be that bad."

I stared at my lap, ignoring Darry's concerned gaze. "You don't know that. What if he's just as bad as Wilson?"

Darry snorted and I couldn't help glancing up in surprise. "No one could be as bad as Wilson."

"I thought you wanted me to talk to him?" I asked in confusion. "You were pissed when I walked out of there."

"That was before I met the guy." Darry's eyes flashed and I remembered Steve's comment when I'd mentioned not wanting to go back to Wilson. I wondered what had happened between him and Darry and was about to ask when I thought better of it. Maybe it was better if I didn't know.

"What if he asks me about something I don't want to talk about?" Darry was right; no one could be as bad as Wilson. But that didn't mean this guy would be any good, either.

"Then don't talk about it," Darry replied.

I eyed him carefully. "You won't be mad?"

Darry sighed and turned so he could see me better. "Soda, I'm not going to be mad if you go in there and things don't work out. You can only do as much as you're ready for. But you've gotta try, and if you stay here in the truck for the next hour instead of going in and at least meeting Dr. Carson, you're never gonna get anywhere."

I looked towards the small building, trying to summon the courage to go inside. It was a little run down, shabby even, but somehow that made me feel a bit better. It was less imposing than the hospital.

"You'll come with me?"

"You know I will." Darry squeezed my shoulder and I forced myself to step out of the truck. Waiting wasn't going to make it any easier.

The building was home to a few different businesses, but the office we needed wasn't hard to find. When we stepped in, the waiting room was empty. There were a handful of chairs, a table with outdated magazines, and a few paintings on the walls. The room seemed harmless enough, but that didn't help calm my nerves much.

"Sodapop Curtis?"

Darry and I both looked towards the desk that sat in one corner of the office. An older, plump woman sat behind it and was smiling kindly at us. My first thought was that she should be home baking cookies and knitting sweaters for her grandchildren and I felt a tiny bit of tension leave me. "I'm Sodapop," I said quietly.

"Dr. Caron's just finishing up with a client. If you have a seat he'll be with you in a few minutes."

Darry thanked her and chose a seat next to the magazines. I didn't miss her use of the word "client" instead of "patient" and I felt a little better again as I sat down next to Darry. Maybe this guy really was different.

"Remember," Darry whispered, squeezing my shoulder, "just go in and do your best."

I bit my lip, hoping my best would be enough. If it wasn't, I wasn't sure what would happen, either today or later. No matter what Darry said, I knew he'd be disappointed if this session didn't go alright and if I was honest with myself, I would be, too.

A door on the opposite side of the room creaked open and I sat up straight, any feelings of ease I'd had immediately draining away. A middle aged man walked past us and out of the office without a second glance. It was quiet for a minute before another man, older than the first one, stepped out of the adjoining room. "Sodapop?" he questioned, looking at me and Darry.

"That's me," I said nervously.

When I didn't move, he gestured to the door behind him. "Would you like to come in?"

Swallowing hard, I nodded and followed him into the room. It was small, and definitely had the atmosphere of an office, with bookshelves, filing cabinets, and a large desk, but it wasn't as sterile as Dr. Wilson's office had been. Instead of hard, formal chairs on either side of the desk, Dr. Carson led me to a comfortable looking couch. There were a few potted plants scattered around the room and a small fish tank sat in one corner. Dr. Carson himself was a thin man with graying hair, glasses, and a loose fitting cardigan. Nothing about him seemed overly formal.

"Should I lie down?" I asked uncertainly, thinking of movies I'd seen.

"Only if you want to," Dr. Carson said, sitting down in a chair opposite me.

I nodded gratefully and stayed sitting. Silence fell, and I shifted uncomfortably.

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

I shrugged and stared at my hands. There wasn't anything I actually _wanted_ to talk about, but I knew Darry was paying good money for this. "I don't really know," I mumbled.

"I saw in your file that you work at the DX gas station. Is that right?"

Surprised, I looked up. Dr. Carson was watching me, waiting patiently for my answer. Slowly, I nodded, not sure why he was asking me about my job. "Yeah. I've worked there since high school."

"Do you like it there?"

"Yeah, it's okay," I answered, shrugging. "I mean, it's not glamorous or nothing, but I like the shifts when I get to work on the cars and my best friend works there, so it's pretty fun."

"It's always more fun when you like the people you work with. What's your friend's name?"

"Steve."

"And how long have you two been friends?"

I smiled as I remembered the day we'd met. "Since the first day of kindergarten."

"That's a long time," he commented, seeming genuinely impressed. "You two must be very close."

"He's like another brother to me," I agreed. "He—he's been there for me a lot lately." I looked back down, suddenly uncomfortable again.

"That must help, having people who care so much about you."

I bit my lip again. "Sometimes."

"But not all the time?" he asked, picking up on my reluctance.

"It's not that I don't appreciate it," I said quickly, looking back up at him. "It's just—" I paused, searching for the right words. "Sometimes it makes it harder, having the gang around. I don't want to disappoint them."

"Do you feel like you've disappointed them?"

I stayed quiet, not wanting to answer the question. No one had actually said the words to me, but I knew it was true. I didn't blame them for it, either, not after what I'd done.

"Sodapop?" Dr. Carson prompted.

Tears welled in my eyes and I wiped at them angrily. Things had been better the last couple of days. I didn't want to dredge everything up, not now.

"Why don't you tell me more about the DX?" he suggested gently. I blinked away more tears and nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "You said you like working with the cars. Do you get to do that very often?"

I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my nerves before answering. "Not as much as I want," I said, and was relieved to hear that my voice wasn't shaking as much as I thought it would be. "Steve's better at it, so he gets most of those shifts, and our boss does a lot of the car work. But I usually get one or two a week."

"Do you like your boss?"

I nodded. "He's a good guy. He let me go back to work even when the owner didn't want me to."

"That was nice of him. It must have been easier for you, having something you like to occupy your time."

"It was. I just worked in the store at first, but it was still better than being at home all the time."

"Why did you only work in the store?"

I tensed up and stopped for a minute, but he didn't seem like he was going to change the subject this time. "Cause my leg was still sore from when it was broken."

"And that happened while you were in the prison camp, right?"

I nodded silently.

"Can you tell me how it was broken?" he asked. I remembered lying on the prison floor, Vo above me demanding that I write an apology, and the pain that seared through my leg when I refused again. I looked down at my hands and stayed quiet. "Sodapop," Dr. Carson said gently, leaning forward. "You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. But you didn't come in here just to tell me about your job. And if that's all we talk about today, that's fine, but eventually we'll have to move on."

I hadn't told anyone the details of what had happened, not even at the army hospital. They hadn't asked that much, though, and even Darry and Pony hadn't pushed it.

"Did they want information?" Dr. Carson suggested.

I thought about just ignoring his question and hoping he wouldn't ask again. After all, he said it was up to me if I wanted to talk. But then I thought of Darry in the waiting room, probably hoping this whole thing wouldn't set me off on another meltdown. He'd stuck by me, no matter how bad I'd treated him.

"No." It was a whisper and I knew I needed to say something more, but it was all I could manage. In the months I'd been home, I'd spent most of my time and energy trying to avoid thinking about anything that had happened in the prison camp. Talking about it wasn't something I was looking forward to.

"Were they trying to get you to cooperate?" he tried again.

It was pretty much the truth, so I nodded. "I didn't want to give in to them. If I'd done what they wanted, they wouldn't have broke my leg. Or—" I stopped and swallowed back the lump in my throat.

"Or what, Sodapop?"

"They wouldn't have used the fan belt, either." A shiver ran through me as the memories rushed back. I could almost taste the gag they'd forced into my mouth and the same feeling of helplessness came crashing down on me. The room started to blur and I leaned forward, resting my head in my hands and trying to block everything out.

"Here, drink this."

I forced myself to look up and found Dr. Carson kneeling in front of me, holding out a glass of water. I took it gratefully, feeling a bit better as the cool liquid hit my throat.

"Better?" he asked, sitting back in his chair.

"Yeah, thanks." I still felt shaky and a little queasy, but the room wasn't spinning.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today."

I glanced up in surprise. "Has it already been an hour?"

He gave me a small smile and shook his head. "Not quite, but it's best not to push things too much on the first day."

"Oh." I wasn't sure what to think of that. Was I so pathetic I couldn't make it through a whole session even when I was trying?

"It's nothing to feel badly about, Sodapop," he said kindly. "We can keep going today if you want, but it might be better for you to take a break and we'll start fresh next time."

"What would we talk about if I stayed?"

"That depends. Do you want to talk more about what happened?"

I shook my head. That was one thing I was sure of.

"We could talk more about the DX if you want. Or about your brothers or friends."

"Would it help?" I asked.

"It might," he answered, but his voice was non-committal and I thought I knew what his real opinion was.

"Would—would it be alright if we stop?"

"Absolutely. Recovery is all about small steps. Coming in here after everything you've been through was a huge success." He squeezed my shoulder as we stood up and somehow the gesture made me feel a bit better. Maybe he was right. After all, I hadn't made it through more than five minutes with Dr. Wilson, so this had to be some sort of progress, even if it was only a little.

When I stepped into the waiting room, Darry glanced at his watch and his face was instantly shadowed with worry. "You okay, Sodapop?" he asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I nodded, not quite trusting my voice. "I made you another appointment for Wednesday. Is that okay?" I nodded again and I felt him relax in relief. I leaned against him, exhausted and drained, as he led me out to the truck. Right then, all I wanted was to go home.

X X X

"Hey, Stevie! Don't hog all the chips!"

This comment was followed by a loud smack. "I told you not to call me that, Two-Bit!"

I rolled my eyes as I stepped into the living room to find the two of them on the floor, Steve with Two-Bit in a headlock. They were dangerously close to knocking the bag of potato chips onto the floor and creating a mess, but I didn't bother to stop them. Soda was smiling, and as far as I was concerned, that gave them a free pass to do whatever they wanted.

We'd just come home from his second therapy session with Dr. Carson. He looked a hell of a lot better than the first one when he'd come out of the room after barely half an hour, pale and shaky. I'd been terrified it was going to be a repeat of Dr. Wilson, but whatever it was that had made him leave early, it hadn't stopped him from keeping the second appointment.

I knew Pony was even more relieved than I was. He didn't talk about it, but I knew he still hadn't gotten over seeing Soda have the panic attack in the elevator and he definitely still wasn't over his suicide attempt. The way he would watch Soda when he thought no one was looking, like he was waiting for the next meltdown, told me more than he'd ever admit to. He wasn't as angry anymore, though. Finding out why Soda had hurt himself had been a lot to deal with, something I wished he'd never needed to know, but it somehow repaired the damage. He stayed by Soda's side most of the time when he was able to. We'd all been a little worried how Soda would react to that, but he didn't seem to mind.

Ignoring Steve and Two-Bit's continued antics, I headed back to the kitchen to try and find some dinner.

"Can I help?"

I glanced up at the hesitant voice. Soda stood in the doorway, watching me rummage through the fridge. In the past few days, he seemed to be doing whatever he could to make everyone happy.

"Sure," I said, smiling at him. "I was thinking I'd make sandwiches. That okay with you?"

He nodded and went to the cupboard to the get the plates out. We worked silently. Soda kept his attention fixed on the food in front of him, concentrating on it harder than necessary. Even with everything being in the open now, he was still quiet, sometimes even more than Johnny had been, and I wished again that I could make everything better for him.

"I'm going to bring these out," I said once we had a fairly large stack of sandwiches. "You okay to finish the last couple?" He nodded and I made my way into the living room with the food. Two-Bit made a beeline for the plate the second he saw it and I shot him a glare as he nearly tackled me trying to get some. "If you're going to act like a pig, you can eat outside," I snapped.

"I'm hungry," he replied through a mouthful of food, shrugging sheepishly at me.

I sighed in exasperation, but let it go as I took a seat on the couch. The T.V. was still on from when Pony had been watching it earlier, though the channel had switched to the news a while back. An older couple stood on their front lawn being interviewed by the reporter. The woman was crying as the husband explained that their son had gone missing in Vietnam six months ago today. I glanced at Steve who had noticed the story as well, and motioned that he should change the channel. Before he had a chance to move, a picture of the couple's son flashed onto the screen, instantly followed by a crash from the kitchen doorway. Everyone's head swiveled to the source of the noise: Soda stood in the doorway, his face stark white, the plate he'd been carrying with the remaining sandwiches smashed on the floor. His eyes were fixed on the television screen and I mentally kicked myself for not getting the channel changed in time.

"Soda, what is it?" Pony asked. He hadn't been paying attention to the news story, but as his eyes followed what Soda was looking at, he instantly understood.

"Steve, change the channel," I ordered, snapping him back into action.

"No." It was only a whisper, but in the quiet that had settled over the room, Soda's protest was crystal clear. Steve glanced at me, unsure what to do, but by now the news story had changed and it didn't matter.

I got up and took Soda by the shoulders, trying to lead him out of the living room. "C'mon, little buddy," I said gently, but he didn't budge.

"It was him." Soda was still staring at the screen where the missing soldier's picture had been.

"It was who, Soda?" I asked.

"Soda, are you sure?" Steve interrupted, coming over to us. Soda nodded and Steve studied him carefully before turning to me. As soon as he met my eyes I realized what he'd already figured out. Soda thought the missing soldier was the kid who had died in the fire.

I nodded to Steve to show I understood before gripping Soda's shoulders again and nudging him in the direction of the hallway. He didn't protest this time, instead letting me lead him to his room.

"It's okay, Soda," I murmured, partly to try to comfort him and partly to fill the silence. "It's gonna be okay."

He didn't respond and he didn't seem to notice when I sat him down on the bed or when I left to get him a glass of water. As I was heading back down the hall, Steve stopped me.

"How is he?" he asked.

I sighed. "I don't know. I think he's in shock or something."

Steve glanced over his shoulder towards the living room and lowered his voice. "They're wondering what's going on. What do you want me to tell them?"

Groaning, I closed my eyes, weighing the options. I hadn't planned to tell Pony and Two-Bit about the fire. Soda didn't want them to know and it hadn't seemed like they needed to. But now that they knew something was up, I wasn't sure they'd let it drop, and I wasn't sure it was fair to keep it quiet anymore. "Tell them what happened," I decided finally, opening my eyes again. Steve nodded and turned to go, but I grabbed his arm. "Do you believe him?" I asked quietly.

Steve looked down the hall to Soda's room before answering. "I believe that he thinks it's the same kid. But Darry, what are the odds? There's tons of soldiers who are MIA."

I nodded in agreement. "Thanks, Steve."

When I got back to Soda's room, he was still staring straight ahead. "Soda?" He didn't give any indication that he'd heard me. "Pepsi?" I tried, sitting beside him and lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, jerking out of my touch and turning to face me. His eyes darted from me to around the room and finally back to me.

"Darry?" he asked in confusion.

"Yeah, Sodapop," I whispered, my concern growing.

"How—how did I get here?" he asked.

I put a hand on his shoulder again, and this time he didn't move away, but I could feel him shivering. I handed him the glass of water, which he downed in a matter of seconds. "You were making dinner when you came in the living room and saw the news story. Do you remember that?"

He nodded slowly, processing what I was telling him. "And you brought me here?" he asked, piecing together what had happened. "Pony…and Two-Bit. Do they know?"

"Steve's telling them now," I said. The little bit of his colour that had returned drained again. "They're not going to be mad, Soda," I tried to reassure him. "Steve and I weren't, and they won't be either."

He was silent for a long while, staring at his hands and not moving an inch. I was starting to worry he'd gone catatonic again when he finally spoke. "I want to see them."

I frowned. "Who? Pony and Two-Bit?"

"No," he answered, shaking his head and looking up at me. "His parents. I want to go see them." He looked more determined than I'd ever seen him.

"Soda, why are you so sure he's the same kid? Do you realize how unlikely that is?"

"They showed a picture. It's him." Soda's jaw was set as he glared at me.

"Pepsi," I sighed, hoping to talk some sense into him. "You only saw his picture for a few seconds and it's been months since it happened. Your mind's playing tricks on you."

"Six months."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Six months," he repeated. "It's six months next week since he died. This boy disappeared six months ago today."

I shook my head and pulled him against me. "It's a coincidence, Soda. There's thousands of soldiers over there. He's not the only one that went missing then."

"His name was James. His last name. The boy on the news, his name was Nathan James."

I stayed silent, at a loss for anything useful to say at this point. I hadn't paid attention to the story closely enough to catch the name, but if Soda was right, I couldn't deny that it seemed like less and less of a coincidence.

Soda pulled back and looked at me. "I'm not crazy, Dare. It's him and I'm going whether you want me to or not."

X X X

I'm sorry for the long wait again. Hopefully this chapter was worth it. Soda's conversation with Dr. Carson has been in my head for a long time. One of my jobs is run by a psychologist, and it was based on advice he gave me.

Please review!


	43. Chapter 43

Thank you everyone for your continued patience! Also a special thank you to Independence Undervalued for helping me feel better…I really needed it.

Just one more chapter after this, I think (at least, that's the plan). I'm leaving for 5 weeks on March 3rd, so I'm bound and determined to have it up before then.

Take note of the song for this chapter…certainly been a long time coming. Also for anyone with some time on their hands, I highly recommend searching "Home for a Rest" by this band…one of the best songs ever.

X X X

Come on and pick me up

Raise me off the floor

Let me hear the band

Play the rites of man

Come on and lift my head

Lead me to the door

Make me understand

The rites of man

~~Spirit of the West—The Rites of Man

X X X

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

It was the first time Pony had asked the question, but I knew he'd been thinking it ever since I told him we were going to Vermont. It was the same question running through all our minds, but in the end, it didn't really matter what we thought.

"No," I answered, packing the last of my things into my suitcase. "I'm not sure. But Soda's going to do this with or without us, so we don't really have a choice."

"He'll be okay. You and Darry'll be with him," Steve said, but he didn't sound like he even believed himself.

Pony didn't answer, obviously having the same doubts that Steve was having. I wasn't so sure Soda would be okay even with us there, either, but he was hell bent on going through with this, and I'd be damned if I was going to let him do it by himself. It had taken him nearly two hours on the phone to track down an address for the family, eventually finding out they lived in a small town in Vermont. I still wasn't completely convinced the kid on the news was the same one Soda had met, but I couldn't deny that the details all added up a little too neatly to be ignored. And if somehow this helped Soda to heal, I didn't much care if he was seeing the right family.

"You guys are leaving tonight?" Steve asked.

I nodded. "As soon as Two-Bit shows up with Soda. I need to be back to work by Tuesday." Soda had wanted to leave the minute he got the address, but I'd managed to convince him that skipping out on his shift was a bad idea.

"I can't believe he didn't tell us sooner," Pony mumbled and I squeezed his shoulder in understanding. He and Two-Bit had taken the news better than I'd expected. Despite what I'd told Sodapop, I'd been worried that Pony would be angry again, but if he was, he was hiding it well. He was scared, though; he couldn't hide that, no matter how hard he tried. Soda was focused single mindedly on contacting the family and none of us were sure how he'd react if they rejected him.

"Honey, we're home!" Two-Bit's voice rang out through the house, making us all smile a bit in spite of ourselves. He'd been careful about cracking jokes since he found out what had happened and I hoped that his change in attitude meant Soda was in a good mood. My hopes sunk when I stepped into Soda's room to find him already throwing his work uniform into the corner and pulling on his street clothes.

"You guys ready?" he asked when he saw me.

"Soda, are you sure you're not rushing into this?" I questioned. "You can always go next weekend. They're not going anywhere."

He glared at me and grabbed his already packed suitcase off the bed. "For the last time, Darry, I'm sure. If it was you and Pony, you'd want someone to give you some sort of news, even if it was bad, wouldn't you?"

I wasn't so sure about Ponyboy, but I knew Soda was right about me. "That doesn't mean you have to be the one to do it, though. It's not your responsibility."

"Yes, it is," he insisted, and the look he gave me left no room for argument.

"Alright," I sighed. "We'd better get going, then. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

X X X

"Maybe we should go with them," I suggested as we watched the Curtis' truck turn at the end of the street.

"Why?" Steve growled, glaring at me. "So we can watch Soda have a mental breakdown? I don't think he needs our help with that."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "I thought you were okay with this?"

He scoffed and shook his head. "Like Darry said, Soda was gonna go no matter what. The last thing any of them needed was me telling them the whole thing's a bad idea. Darry already knows that. He just doesn't see any other option, and frankly, neither do I. Soda's got a thick head sometimes and nothing's gonna make him change his mind on this one."

I bit back the smart remark I wanted to say and settled for nodding. I hadn't realized just how frustrated Steve was, but it was showing through now that he didn't have to hide it.

"He made it through everything else, Steve. He'll make it through this, too."

Steve didn't answer. I didn't blame him. We all knew this was different. It wasn't just about Soda this time, and none of us would be able to control how that family reacted.

X X X

"Sodapop?" Someone shook my shoulder and I looked over to find Ponyboy and Darry both staring at me.

"What?"

"I asked if you're hungry," Darry said slowly. He gestured outside the truck and I realized we'd stopped at a roadside diner.

"Sure," I answered, shrugging. I wasn't hungry, I hadn't been all day, but I didn't want to sit in the truck by myself. The sun was just going down as we headed across the parking lot and I watched it wistfully. This was the last night that family would still have some hope their son might come home one day. Maybe I shouldn't take that way from them. Maybe it was better to leave them that one small thing to hold on to, even if it would never happen.

"You coming, Soda?" Darry was holding the door open for me.

I wordlessly followed him into the diner and tried to stop second guessing myself. I had to see them. It wasn't right for them to be left wondering, never knowing what had happened. If I didn't tell them their son was dead, they might spend the rest of their lives thinking he could be alive somewhere. I would've wanted someone to tell Darry and Ponyboy.

"You want to drive for a while, Pony?" Darry asked once we'd ordered. I couldn't help but smile a little as Pony's eyes lit up. He hadn't had much of a chance to drive outside of Tulsa and he generally snapped up any opportunity he was given. It didn't hurt that with Pony driving, both of them would be to preoccupied to pay much attention to me. I was tired of the attempts at small talk. The only thing I could focus on at all was what I was going to say once we found his parents.

We drove through the night, Pony and Darry taking turns. They never asked me to drive, which I was glad of. I doubted I'd be able to keep the car on the road. I didn't have the first clue how to tell someone this sort of news and it made my stomach twist every time I thought of it. A couple of times I almost asked them to pull over so I could throw up, but I managed to swallow it back.

When we finally got to the town and found a motel, I was nearly shaking. I was starting to think more than ever that this had been a bad idea, but I didn't want to back out now, not after I'd just made Darry and Pony drive across nearly the entire country.

I adjusted my tie in the bathroom mirror. We'd brought our best clothes with us; somehow it had seemed like the right thing to do, though now I couldn't see the point. It wouldn't make the news any easier for me to say or for them to hear.

"You look nice," Darry said when he saw me.

I just nodded. My throat felt tight and I didn't quite trust myself to speak. Pony didn't try to hide his worry as he watched us go. It had taken Darry a while to convince him to stay at the hotel, but I was glad he'd managed. I appreciated Pony's support more than I could possibly tell him, but I didn't want him there when I told the family. He already knew more than I wanted him to; he didn't need to hear it again.

Darry had gotten directions from the hotel manager and I focused all my concentration on breathing as he drove through the town. It was small, with probably only a few thousand people living there, so it didn't take long for him to find the right street.

"You sure about this, Soda?" Darry asked for the hundredth time as he made the last turn. "It's not too late to turn back."

I swallowed and took a deep breath, trying my best to ignore the voice in my head that was screaming at me to accept Darry's offer and run the other direction.

"I'm sure," I said.

He stopped in front of a small, white house. A garden covered most of the front lawn, the first bulbs of spring just starting to shoot up, and a white picket fence ran along the yard. I doubted it was possible to find a more picturesque home.

It took me a couple tries to get the truck door open. When I finally did and I stepped out, my legs almost collapsed out from under me. Darry hurried around the truck and grabbed me by the shoulders, steadying me.

"You can do this, Pepsi," he whispered.

I nodded and started up the walkway. Before I could stop to doubt myself again, I knocked loudly on the door. The seconds ticked by and I tried not to wonder if I'd be able to make myself come back if they weren't home. Darry had raised his hand to knock again when the door swung open and I was suddenly staring at the woman from the news. Seeing her in person, I was hit with just how much she looked like her son. My breath rushed out, leaving me winded, not able to do anything but stare at the woman whose world I was about to shatter.

"Can I help you?" she asked, eyeing us up and down.

Darry gently squeezed my shoulder. "I—I saw you on the news," I said, finally able to find my voice again.

Her husband had come up behind her now and he frowned at us. "We're not looking for sympathy." He started to close the door and I panicked.

"Wait!" I cried. "I knew—" I stopped and took a breath. "I knew your son."

Instantly, their entire demeanor changed. Her eyes filled with tears at the mention of her son and I wondered again if I was doing the right thing. He opened the door wide now, gesturing us in. As we were led to the couch, I noticed the living room was just as tidy as the front yard. The furniture seemed to be arranged perfectly and nothing was out of place. Picture frames lined the mantle, but I kept my gaze away from them. I didn't want to see his face again.

"How do you know Nathan?" Mr. James asked, joining his wife on the loveseat opposite the couch. "Did you meet in boot camp?"

I hesitated, not sure how to break the news to them. Despite everything that had happened since I'd gotten the draft letter, everything I'd gone through and all the shit I'd put everyone else through, this seemed like the hardest part. But I owed it to Nathan. I hadn't been able to save him, but I could at least do this.

"No, I didn't meet him there." Mr. James frowned slightly and a thought suddenly occurred to me. "How long was Nathan there before he went MIA?"

"Two weeks," Mrs. James spoke up, her voice shaking. "He enlisted on his birthday. He said—he said he wanted to make us proud." She threw a sidelong glance at her husband before continuing. "We tried to tell him that he didn't need to go over there, that we were already proud of him, but he wouldn't listen. And now—" She broke off into a sob. "And now he's missing and they don't know what happened."

Of course the army didn't know. I hadn't told them anything and I doubted they'd stopped to look for bodies.

My blood ran cold at that last thought. I didn't have any idea what they'd done with the body. Had they buried it?

"You know, don't you?"

It was more of a statement than a question. Mr. James was studying me carefully, probably putting the pieces together. Two weeks wasn't very long to know someone, definitely not long enough to warrant a drive across the country to visit their parents.

I nodded silently, not trusting myself to speak.

"You know where my baby is?" Mrs. James asked hopefully. She hadn't figured out yet that I wasn't there to deliver good news. I was pretty sure her husband had, though, from the look on his face. He wrapped an arm around his wife. She watched me, waiting for me to tell her there'd been a horrible mistake and her son was alive and well somewhere, maybe hiding out with some friendly locals until he could make it back.

Darry gave my arm a small squeeze and I knew I had to start saying something useful. "I—I only actually saw Nathan for a few minutes," I began, stumbling over the words. I stared at the ground, too afraid of their reactions to make eye contact. "I wasn't over there very long when my unit was ambushed. Most of them were killed, and the rest of us scattered." I could feel Darry's eyes on me; he hadn't heard this part before.

"Was Nathan part of your unit? Did he make it out?"

"Shush, honey," Mr. James whispered. "Let the boy tell his story."

I shook my head at her question. "He wasn't with us. That's not how I knew him."

"Then how?" she asked, waving off her husband's protests.

I bit my lip, trying to decide how much to tell them. "I got separated from everyone left in my unit. A sniper started shooting at me. When I finally managed to outrun him, I had no idea where I was. Some North Vietnamese soldiers found me." I stopped for a minute, trying not to remember how afraid I'd been when they caught me.

"You became a POW," Mr. James finished for me, ignoring his own advice to be quiet. "And that's where you met Nathan."

I nodded.

"But you only saw him for a few minutes," Mrs. James said, a teary smile appearing on her face. "So he could still be there. And if you got out, he could, too."

I couldn't say anything. She was so hopeful, so sure that her son had to be alive somewhere.

"Soda," Darry prodded gently. I took a deep, shaky breath and kept talking, trying to ignore Mrs. James' assumptions that I only saw Nathan in passing.

"They wanted information from me. They thought I knew something, that I'd been near their camp for a reason, but I never figured out what it was. When I didn't tell them what they wanted to know, they—they brought Nathan in." I could feel the tears starting to form as my throat closed up and I tried desperately to keep them at bay. "I tried to come up with a story that they'd believe, but I couldn't…"

There was silence, then Mrs. James whispered, "He's gone?"

I couldn't help it anymore and the tears spilled over. "I'm so sorry," I breathed. Darry wrapped an arm around me, but it didn't make me feel any better.

The sound of the front door opening made all of us look up. A teenage boy stood there, staring at me curiously. He was younger than Nathan, probably fifteen or so, but the resemblance was unmistakable. I suddenly wanted to throw up as I realized who he was and what he was about to find out.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking towards his parents. "Why's Mom crying? Who're they?" He sounded nervous now.

"We should go," Darry muttered, standing up and pulling me up with him.

"No, I want to know who you are," the boy demanded. He moved so he was standing in our way, blocking the path to the door. Mr. James went over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Dad, who are they?" he repeated, sounding a bit hysterical now.

"Michael, you should sit down," Mr. James suggested, trying to guide his son to the couch we'd just vacated. I wished he'd move so we could leave. I didn't want to be there when he found out. I couldn't be there. Michael didn't budge, though.

"Who. Are. They?" He turned to glare at us and I immediately fixed my gaze on the floor.

Mr. James sighed, realizing he wasn't going to be able to reason with his son. "Michael, this boy knew Nathan. He told us what happened to him."

I kept staring at the ground, but I could feel Michael's eyes burning into me. "Where is he?"

"Michael, Nathan isn't coming back."

There was a beat and then, "No. He's wrong."

"He's not wrong," Mr. James said gently, and I heard his voice crack. "I think we've all known this for a while. He's just confirming it."

"Michael's right." The voice was soft and we all turned towards Mrs. James. She was standing now and she came over to hug her son. "You said you only saw him for a few minutes," she said, turning to me. "It wasn't Nathan. You have the wrong boy."

My mouth opened and I tried to protest, to tell her I was positive, but nothing came out.

"See?" Michael said, turning to his father. "A few minutes is nothing. He doesn't know what he's talking about." His mother led him over to the couch, succeeding where his father hadn't. Our path was clear now, but I couldn't seem to make myself move.

"Michael, Ellie," Mr. James sighed. "You have to believe him. Nathan is gone."

"Shut up!" Michael screamed, and I took an involuntary step backwards. "He's not gone! This guy is lying or crazy or something, but Nathan isn't gone." He turned to me, his eyes filled with hatred. "Get out."

I wanted to do what he said, but my feet still seemed glued to the floor. I could feel Darry tug at me, but I stayed still, staring in misery at the scene in front of me. I'd known this would be hard. I'd expected tears, grief, but I'd never thought about anyone but his parents. One tiny twist of fate and this could've been Ponyboy sitting on the couch, his last hope suddenly shattered by some stranger claiming he saw me die.

"Get out," Michael repeated, a desperate fury in his voice now. "Get out!"

Darry finally succeeded at pushing me into action. The few steps to the door seemed to take forever. All I could focus on was Nathan's brother screaming at me to leave. I barely registered the bright sun glaring down on us as we stepped outside. I probably would've collapsed right there if Darry hadn't been holding me up.

"Wait."

Despite my daze, I turned around at the unexpected voice. Mr. James was standing on the front step. He'd closed the door behind him and glanced worriedly at the living room window before he spoke again.

"I believe you," he said, closing the short distance between us. "I was in Korea. A few minutes isn't very long, but it's long enough. Seeing someone get…seeing something like that—it's not something you forget." He paused and looked towards the house again before turning back to us. "Thank you for telling us."

All I could do was stare at him. My mind was still fixated on Michael's reaction and no matter how hard I tried not to, I couldn't help seeing Pony in his place. I knew Pony looked up to me, or at least used to. Was Michael the same? When I'd failed to save Nathan, had I not only ripped him away from his parents, but taken away his brother's hero, too?

"Thank you, sir." Darry's voice broke into my thoughts and I realized we were walking towards the truck again. I didn't take in any of the ride back to the motel. One second Darry was closing the truck door after I'd stumbled in, the next he was trying to get me out. I vaguely noticed the concerned look of the clerk as we passed through the lobby, but we were halfway down the hallway before it dawned on me that I was the cause of it.

"Soda?"

Pony was standing in front of me. Somehow we'd gotten into the motel room. His hand was on my shoulder and his face was scared.

"Pony," I whispered. It was all I got out before I threw my arms around him. I don't know if he helped me sit down or if he just buckled under my unexpected weight, but suddenly we were on the floor. "I'm sorry," I cried into his shirt. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh. It's okay, Soda," Darry soothed and I could feel him pull the two of us against himself. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

I cried harder, clutching Pony's shirt and letting Darry rub circles on my back. It wasn't fair, none of this was fair. Nathan shouldn't have died, Michael shouldn't have lost his brother.

"It's gonna be okay, Pepsi."

I clung onto Darry's words. They had to be true. They had to be.

X X X

As always, I would love to hear any thoughts. This chapter was extremely difficult to write, so feedback is particularly appreciated.


	44. Chapter 44

So…last chapter. Scary. I started it over two and a half years ago. Can you believe this story is nearly 300 pages in a word document?

An enormous thank you to everyone who has reviewed and favorited this story—it's meant the world to me to have so much support!

I will continue to do some writing for the fandom, but likely just one shots. I would like to do another multi-chapter fic eventually, but it'll be a long time from now. Don't expect anything in any form for a while, though.

So, again, thank you for readings! Please, please take a minute at the end to review and leave your thoughts. Hopefully the ending does the story justice.

X X X

When you're gone for days, on your own

Tear your heart out just to find your way home

I've been so high, I sunk so low

I've come so far with nothing to show for it

Mistaken I got so good at taking

But now I'm tired of faking

This story's getting old

So I found the strength inside to see

Found the better part of me

And I'll never let it go

~~Hedley—Invincible

X X X

"Dare, you still awake?" My whisper seemed loud in the silence of the room and I winced slightly, hoping it wouldn't wake Soda up. He'd eventually cried himself to sleep and Darry had managed to pry him away from me and move him to one of the beds. Despite the second bed only feet away, we'd both stayed with Soda, one of us on either side of him.

"Yeah, I'm awake," Darry whispered back.

I hesitated, trying to decide if I should say anything. I knew this wasn't any easier for Darry than it was for me.

"You okay, Pone?" he asked.

"We shouldn't have come." The thought had been weighing on my mind ever since they'd gotten back to the motel room. Since he'd gotten home, I'd seen Soda break down more than I wanted to remember, but this time had been different. Before, he'd been angry or frustrated or scared, but when he'd collapsed into my arms, he'd seemed more broken than I'd ever seen him.

"We didn't have a choice, Pony."

"We could've stopped him," I argued. I don't know why I bothered; I knew Darry was right. Soda would've found a way to get here no matter what we'd done.

From the other side of the bed, Darry sighed. "He needed to do this. He needed closure, even if it didn't go well. And the father believed him. I think that'll help, once he calms down."

We lapsed back into silence as I thought about what Darry had said. Maybe the father's acceptance would make a difference. It couldn't hurt, anyway. I still wished Soda hadn't ever seen that news story, though. He'd been doing better since he'd started talking with

Dr. Carson. In those few days he'd seemed more at ease than he'd been in months. I didn't want all of that to get ruined.

"You should get some sleep, Pony," Darry said. "We've got a long drive tomorrow and I think it's just gonna be you and me again."

I glared at him through the dark. "I'll go to sleep when you do."

"You got yourself a deal, kiddo," he answered, and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice. It wasn't long before I heard his breathing even out and I knew he was asleep. I wasn't surprised, not after he'd worked the day before and then driven all night. I kept my end of the bargain, curling up against Soda and draping my arm across him, hoping that at least one of us would wake up before he did.

X X X

"Damn it," I muttered as pain sliced through my finger. I'd been cutting up peppers for dinner, but apparently hadn't been paying enough attention to what I was doing. My mind was too focused on Soda still. He hadn't said much on the way back from Vermont. He kept insisting he was fine, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. A part of me had wanted to hit that Michael kid for how he'd treated Soda, but I kept reminding myself that he was grieving. He was the one who'd lost a brother, not us. As bad as I felt for him, there wasn't a single second I wasn't grateful that it was his family going through that and not ours.

"You okay there, Superman?" Two-Bit asked as I grabbed a dishtowel to stop the bleeding. He and Steve had been helping me with dinner, though Two-Bit's version of helping was more along the lines of watching us do all the work.

"Yeah," I grumbled, frustrated that I'd been so clumsy.

"You picking Soda up from work?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at Two-Bit as he moved to take over the chopping.

I sat down at the table and shook my head. "No, he's walking."

Steve looked worried. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"We've gotta learn to trust him, Steve," I sighed, but I couldn't help glancing at the clock beside him to see how much longer till Sodapop should be home.

"Darry's right," Two-Bit agreed. "Things didn't exactly work out last time we tried to watch him."

Steve dumped the potatoes he'd been peeling into a pot and joined me at the table. "Is he seeing that doctor again this week?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he's got an appointment on Thursday. He seems to like him." At least, he hadn't come running out of the room yet, anyway. Soda hadn't talked about his sessions with Dr. Carson, but he was agreeing to go back, so I was taking that as a good sign.

The front door slammed shut and all talk of Soda was dropped as he came into the kitchen. "Smells good in here," he commented, dropping into the chair beside me. There wasn't much enthusiasm in his voice, but I was glad he was putting some effort in instead of ignoring us.

"It won't be long till dinner. Why don't you grab a shower before it's ready?"

He nodded and headed down the hallway, stumbling a little from exhaustion.

"Has he been sleeping?" Steve asked, noticing Soda's unsteadiness.

"I'm not sure," I answered with a sigh. "He slept Saturday after we saw the family, but I don't think he's gotten much otherwise. I'm hoping he'll do better after he's talked to Dr. Carson again."

"He'll be alright," Two-Bit said, almost to himself.

The question of how much sleep Soda was getting was answered the next night. It was nearly two in the morning when a soft thump in the hallway woke me up. Groaning, I rolled over and dragged myself out of bed to investigate. I was hoping it was just Pony or Soda tripping over their own feet in the dark, but lately I didn't take anything for granted.

The hall was dark, way too dark to see anything clearly. Flicking the light on, I blinked and squinted at the harsh brightness. As my eyes adjusted, I looked around for the source of the noise. Instantly my eyes landed on Sodapop and I was glad I hadn't passed the thud off as nothing. He'd backed himself into the corner and was doubled over on his knees. One hand was on his chest and he was clearly having trouble breathing.

"Shit," I muttered, wide awake now. I dropped down next to him "Soda, what happened?"

"D—Darry," he stammered. His eyes darted up to mine and I felt my stomach drop at the fear shining in them.

Hoping to calm him down, I reached a hand out to him, placing it gently on his shoulder. He shivered under my touch and took in a deep, gasping breath. "It's okay, Soda," I whispered, hoping I wasn't doing more harm than good. "Alright? Everything's okay. You're safe."

"D—Dare, I c—can't breathe." He was shaking now; I could feel the tremors running through his body.

"You're having a panic attack, Soda." I tried to keep my own voice steady, but it wasn't easy. I hated seeing Soda like this, and I wasn't even sure what had set him off. "I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me, Pepsi?"

He shook his head, his small gasps shallow and rattling now. "I—I can't—"

"Look at me, Pepsi." I waited, but he didn't respond. "Sodapop, look at me!" He dragged his head up at the demand and I tried to give him an encouraging smile. "Good. Now listen to me, Pepsi-Cola. You're going to get through this. You just need to take one breath at a time." He gave a shaky nod and sucked in a mouthful of air. I cringed as I realized he was going to make himself hyperventilate. "Through your nose, Soda. I need you to try to breathe through your nose."

It was a long process, but eventually his breathing became more even. He didn't make a move to get up after; he just stayed hunched over, folded into himself. I was quiet for a while, trying to give him time to recover. When I couldn't wait any longer, I finally asked him the question. "What happened, Soda?" I tried to keep my voice gentle, but I could hear the edge in it anyway.

The sound of my voice seemed to bring him back to reality and he looked up again. He wasn't scared anymore, but there was a certain desperation in his face that terrified me.

"It was dark," he whispered. For a second I thought that was all he was going to say and I couldn't help but feel we were right back where we'd been a few weeks ago, but then he kept going. "I had a nightmare. The guard who'd—who'd attacked me was there." He stopped for a second and I saw the little bit of his color that had returned fade again. "I couldn't get back to sleep, so I decided to get up and get a glass of water. The hall was dark, and I know it's always dark, but I guess it bothered me more this time."

He didn't say anything else, but he didn't need to anymore. The rest wasn't hard to figure out. "We can start leaving the hall light on again, if you want," I suggested, squeezing his shoulder.

He shook his head slowly. "What if that's all it takes, Darry?"

"What do you mean, Soda?" I asked, frowning. If all it took to stop late night panic attacks was leaving a light on, I didn't see the problem.

"There's nothing in our hallway. When I came out here, I knew I was home and I knew it was safe, but it didn't help. What if that's all it takes to make it happen again?"

I realized what he meant now and I sighed. "I don't know. I don't think any of us really understand what makes the attacks happen. That's why you're going to Dr. Carson."

"I guess so," he agreed quietly.

"You're gonna make it through this, little buddy," I said, pulling him into a hug. He sank against me. I kept talking, trying to keep him calm. "You've come so far in the past couple weeks. You're going to your appointments, you and Pony are okay again. You're not shutting us out anymore. It can only get better from here, Soda." I felt him give a small nod. "C'mon, let's get you back to bed." I helped him stand up, but he didn't move away from me.

"Darry?"

"Yeah, Soda?"

"Can I stay with you tonight?" he asked, his voice small.

"Of course you can, Pepsi." Keeping my arms around his shoulders, I led him towards my room. Under the covers, he curled himself into a ball and buried his face against me. It took nearly an hour before he finally succumbed to sleep. I listened to him breathe for a while, deep and even, before relaxing and letting myself fall back to sleep, too.

X X X

"Soda? Are you listening?"

Fingers snapped in front of my face and I blinked, focusing on Steve's worried face. "Yeah, I'm listening, Steve."

"Then what did I say?"

I searched my mind, trying to figure out what he'd been talking about before I zoned out. "You were talking about the car that came into the shop this morning," I finally said, hoping I was right.

"That was five minutes ago, Soda," Steve said, frowning.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes in an attempt to wake up. "Sorry," I muttered. The truth was I couldn't bring myself to care much about what Steve was saying. I couldn't stop thinking about the night before and how easily the panic attack had come on, how helpless I'd been to stop it. If Darry hadn't found me, I wasn't sure what would've happened.

"You okay, Soda?" Steve asked. "You've been like this all day."

"Yeah, just tired," I tried, hoping he'd buy it.

"Soda, talk to me." The frustration was clear in his voice, making me feel even worse.

I groaned and pushed myself away from the counter, turning to the shelf behind me to keep stocking. "Look, Steve. I'm not trying to be stubborn. I'm just tired and I still have to see Dr. Carson later. I'm not in the mood to talk about something you can't do anything about, anyway."

At the silence, I couldn't help looking over. He was hurt, and he tried to hide it, but he couldn't in time. "I'm sorry, Steve," I sighed. "It's just, these sessions are still taking a lot out of me and I didn't sleep well last night. But if it makes you feel any better, Darry was with me. I'm not keeping anything a secret, I just don't have the energy to go through it more than I have to."

He eyed me doubtfully for a few seconds, but then he nodded, apparently deciding I was telling the truth about Darry. I sighed to myself as it was obvious again how much trust I had lost with everyone.

"You know Two-Bit wanted to go with you to Vermont."

I stiffened. It was the first time Steve had mentioned the trip since we'd got back. "Why didn't he, then?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw him shrug. "You guys needed some space."

He was right; it was something I'd needed to do with just my brothers. I was glad Two-Bit hadn't come with us, but I was a little relieved to hear that he'd wanted to. Steve didn't mention himself, though, and I kept my eyes on the shelf in front of me as that realization hit. Two-Bit had wanted to come, but Steve hadn't.

"Did it help?" he asked quietly.

It was a question I still hadn't answered for myself, yet. I didn't regret going—that much I was sure of. But had watching the hope drain out of Mrs. James' face helped me? Had realizing that Nathan left behind a younger brother made me feel any better?

"His father thanked me," I finally said, avoiding the question. It was the one good thing that had happened on the trip. Maybe the rest was worth it if at least one person was able to get some closure.

"Good." Steve sounded sincere and I chanced a glance in his direction. "I'm glad you went, Soda. If it helped, even a little, it's good that you did it."

I gave a small smile before starting to pick up the boxes I'd discarded. "Thanks, Steve. For everything."

He slung an arm around my shoulder and followed me outside to the garbage. A car door slammed and I looked up to see Darry standing by the truck.

"Ready to go, Soda?" he asked and I checked my watch. My shift had been over for five minutes.

"Yeah, just give me a minute."

After quickly punching out and grabbing my coat, I joined Darry in the truck. The ride was quiet, my nerves coming to the surface again as we got closer to Dr. Carson's office. I liked the guy, I really did, but the sessions were still difficult. He pushed me more than he had in the first one. He never forced me to talk about anything I really didn't want to, but he didn't let topics slide so easily now. In a way, I was thankful for that. I was tired of avoiding everything.

"Hi, Sodapop," Judy, the secretary greeted me as we walked in.

"Hi," I replied quietly. I had started to wonder if I should tell Dr. Carson about the Vermont trip or about my attack the night before. I knew that I should, I just wasn't sure if I wanted to.

"You can go right in." She gestured to the inner office and I forced myself to walk the few steps to the doorway.

"Good afternoon, Soda," Dr. Carson smiled as he looked up and saw me.

"Hi," I repeated, having a seat on the couch. Dr. Carson took his seat across from me.

"How are you today?" he asked.

"Tired," I answered, staring at my hands.

"And why is that?"

I bit my lip, trying to ignore the instinct to lie and pretend there wasn't a real reason for my exhaustion. "I had a panic attack last night."

He leaned forward and I looked up to find him watching me with concern. "Those can be quite frightening. Was anyone with you?"

I nodded. "Darry was."

"Do you know what brought it on?"

"I got up for a glass of water. I'd had a nightmare and…I don't know," I mumbled. "I guess the dark bothered me more than normal."

"Is the dark always a problem?"

I nodded again. "Yeah. It was always dark over there. It didn't used to bother me, before I left, but I don't like it anymore. Darry said he'd leave the hall light on."

"You don't sound like you like that idea much," he commented.

"I don't mind it," I said, shrugging a little. "I think I'd like having the light on, at least for a while, but…" I stopped and tried to swallow back the fear that was creeping up.

"But you're not sure it'll solve the problem," he finished for me. I blinked, trying to get rid of the tears that wanted to spill over, and nodded.

"It'll help. But it won't stop the nightmares and they scare me just as much as the dark does."

"You haven't talked about your nightmares much. What are they usually about?"

"Everything," I whispered. I traced the scars on my wrist, the ones the guards had made. "Sometimes they're about being tied up. I can't move no matter how hard I try and the ropes just get tighter and tighter till I can't stand it anymore. Other times they're about drowning or…or about the guard who…" I couldn't finish and I wiped away the tears that insisted on coming despite my efforts to stop them.

"Who raped you?" he asked. I nodded silently. I think he wanted me to say the word, but I couldn't. Not yet.

"Do you feel like it's your fault that he attacked you?"

I tried not to, but I let out a small sob anyway. "I should've been able to stop him."

"But you were injured and trapped. He had an unfair advantage."

"I know," I said, sniffing. "I tell myself that every day, but it doesn't help."

"It's the truth, Soda. Until you accept it, until you really believe it, you won't be able to move on."

"But I can still feel him!" I cried. "I can feel his hands on me, touching me anywhere he wanted to, and it makes my skin crawl. How can I move on when I can't forget that?" I searched his face desperately, hoping for some sort of answer.

"You don't need to forget it," he said gently. "You just need to accept that it wasn't your fault. You didn't ask for it and you weren't in any position to stop it."

I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes. Maybe he was right. I was always going to remember what had happened, there was no way around that. Maybe I needed to stop spending so much energy on trying to forget it. "How?" I finally asked, opening my eyes again.

He shook his head slowly. "I can't answer that. Everyone comes to terms with things in their own time and in their own way. The fact that you understand it is a good start. But you experienced months of trauma, Sodapop, in various forms. Nothing is going to change overnight."

"I know," I sighed. "But I'm tired feeling like this."

"Like what, exactly?"

I thought for a minute, searching for the right word. "Helpless," I decided. "Even though I'm home now and they can't touch me, I still feel like they're controlling me."

"And what gives them that control?" He tilted his head slightly, examining me.

It didn't take long for me to realize what he was getting at. Rose had already told me, and I knew both she and Dr. Carson were right. "I do," I whispered.

Dr. Carson didn't say anything, but his gaze never left me.

"How do I stop it?" I asked.

"You need to find a way to take back the control for yourself."

It made sense, but it didn't help me much. "I have no idea how to do that," I sighed.

"Try focusing on the positive things in your life," he suggested. "When you start thinking about what happened, remember everything you still have that's good. Your brothers, friends. Your job. I know it's a bit boring sometimes, but the DX is something that's yours. It doesn't belong to the men who hurt you."

I bit my lip nervously. "Are you saying I shouldn't think about what happened? Cause I don't think I can do that." It didn't matter what I did, it was always lurking in the back of my mind.

"Not at all," he said with a small, understanding smile. "But instead of dwelling on it and giving those thoughts the power, concentrate on something good, instead."

Slowly, I nodded. It didn't sound as difficult as trying to forget altogether.

"We're out of time, Soda," he said gently. I looked at the clock behind him, more than a little surprised. It hadn't felt like an hour.

Darry was in the waiting room as usual and he stood up when he saw me. "How'd it go?" he asked carefully. He was always nervous when I came out of Dr. Carson's office.

"It was good," I answered, zipping my coat up and heading for the door. As I stepped outside, I noticed Ponyboy leaning against our truck, smoking.

"What're you doing here, Pone?" I asked, glancing at Darry, who looked just as surprised to see our brother. It was the first time he'd been to Dr. Carson's. He had still seemed scared that I was going to give up on the sessions like I had before. I remembered how loudly I'd yelled at him when he'd begged me to go back to Dr. Wilson and I couldn't help but feel bad about it all over again.

"I was gonna make dinner," he started slowly, looking a little guilty, "but we didn't have much food, so I thought maybe we could go out to eat."

"Wasn't it your turn to go to the grocery store this week?" Darry asked with a glare.

Pony avoided Darry's eyes and shrugged. "I had a lot of homework and I sort of forgot."

Darry groaned and smacked Pony lightly across the back of the head. The argument continued, but it wasn't viscous like it used to be. The two of them still butted heads sometimes, but their fights were usually more good natured than before. Even now, Darry smiled as he wrestled Pony into a headlock and threatened to take away his driving privileges if Pony didn't start remembering his chores.

"Soda, you listening?"

I jumped a little as I realized Pony had asked me a question. "What?"

He gave me a worried look. "I asked where you wanted to eat."

"Oh," I said, fumbling a little. "Uh, anywhere is good. You choose."

Pony nodded and hopped into the car, but not before shooting me one more concerned glance. Darry mimicked the look and put a hand lightly on my shoulder. "You okay, little buddy?"

I didn't answer right away. It was more normal than I wanted to admit for me to zone out of conversations lately, but this time I hadn't been lost in memories of what had happened. I'd just been thinking about my brothers and how far they had come in the past couple of years. It was exactly what Dr. Carson had told me to do, though I hadn't even realized I'd been doing it.

"Yeah, Darry," I said, smiling a little. "I'm fine."

I'd said those two words countless times since I'd gotten home. This was the first time I believed them.


End file.
